The spider's meal

by Claidheamor

Summary:

After a week of hard work at the hospital, you finally get to rest. There is a storm coming but even while living alone, you know you'll be able to handle it. A house at the edge of the woods, a tall shadow behind the trees, locked doors and no light...What's the worse that could happen? The serial killer is finally behind bars. You just have to wait for the end of the storm.

Notes:

If you don't like non-con, gore and violence please avoid this fic! If you're here for fluff I'm sorry this is also the wrong fic for you lmao, I'm here for a rough, possessive, creepy, violent and horny Michael Myers.
In this fic, Michael Myers is in his late twenties and based on the 1978 movie.
Also Hi, I'm Bee, I'm not a native english speaker so there might be weird use of words and wrong sentences, I apologize in advance!
Hope you'll enjoy the read :)

Chapter 1: The storm

Chapter 1

 

You stared attentively at the droplets falling in the chamber of the IV drip. Your thumb slowly pushed the roller clamp in one hand as you listened to the ticking sound of your watch.

 

1…2…3…

 

When the debit satisfied you, you stared once more at the chamber which was welcoming new drops without ever filling to the brim. The sound of liquid dripping echoed in your ears, distant and far away. 

You used the right medication as well as the right dosage. The liquid was clear, like water, though it only had the appearance. A lot of IV medications were clear, transparent. And the bottles from where you withdrew them all looked alike. You could easily mistake potassium from a saline solution if you weren’t careful enough, for example.

 

Or if you really wanted to kill someone.

 

What would it feel like to kill someone? You wondered, the slow dripping of the drip chamber filling your head.

 

How did it feel to have the power over someone’s life and death? Is injecting poison any different from pulling the trigger? Would you feel guilty before or after? Would you battle with indecision? Would emotions overflow you like a river piercing through a wooden dam?

 

Would you feel nothing at all? Just emptiness where there should be more?

 

You wondered, your hand firmly grasping the clamp.

 

“Is something wrong with my IV, nurse?” Your patient asked cautiously.

 

You blinked back to reality and shook your head. You had been standing in front of the IV drip for several minutes without saying anything, making the patient lying in bed nervous. You cleared your throat and smiled politely.

 

“I’m sorry I was lost in my thoughts.” You said as you hooked the IV bag and pulled the blanket over your patient’s arm, “It’s all fine, my colleague will come back in a few hours to remove the empty bag.”

 

Your patient smiled in relief and you wished him a good night.

 

Outside, the sun was setting. You were on a ten hour shift and it would soon end. You took your watch and put it back in your white tunic’s pocket. It did take you a while to come back to reality. You wondered if you were too tired lately as intrusive thoughts felt more and more present in your mind.

 

You had been a nurse for a few years now and though you were still young, maybe you needed to take better care of yourself.

---

 

 You took a deep breath and went back to the nurse station, as you were finished with your final round.

 

It was a small room with pink walls and big windows leading to the hallway so that patients could see nurses and vice versa. You opened the door and you saw two other nurses watching the small television in the corner of the room. They probably had finished their shift too and were waiting for the night nurses -just like you-

 

You sat at the desk and moved aside a fake pumpkin and a small skeleton laying there so you could write down your notes for the night nurses later. 

It was way past Halloween but there still was decoration around. After all, patients loved to see it so nurses always kept it a bit longer.

 

You started writing down on your patient’s list what happened today with the sound of the television as a background noise. It was the news as far as you could tell but you didn’t really watch television anyway. You couldn’t wait to get home and rest.

 

“Dear God.” You heard one of the nurses mutter under her breath.

 

Intrigued by the notable anguish in her tone, you turned around to glance at the television. They were talking about the gruesome murders which took place on the night of Halloween. Several people were killed by the same man and they were showing the victims’ pictures on the screen. They didn’t talk much about the killer himself as if they didn’t really know what to say. Maybe they lacked information. You wondered why though.

 

“...and we hope that this is the last night of terror for the residents of Haddonfield.” A reporter stated, standing in front of a house with yellow police lines surrounding it.

 

“Haddonfield?” One of the nurses said and she turned around to look at you, “Aren’t you near Haddonfield?”

 

You shrugged and clicked your pen as you spinned on your chair to get back to your notes.

 

“It’s the nearest town you can find around my house.” You said, “Near is a big word, it’s like several kilometers away.”

 

“Oh yeah. You’re some kind of recluse, right?” The second nurse joked, “I remember that you said you lived pretty far from the hospital as well, like almost in the woods. Why not get a job that’s closer? Or at least have a house that’s in an actual city…with people?”

 

You stared at your notes emotionlessly for a second but quickly turned around with a smile.

 

“I guess I just like having my privacy.”

 

It was true. You did like being a nurse or overall going to work and talking to people. But you could never really feel connected to anybody entirely. When you were younger people called you antisocial and didn’t like you for it. You realized that it wasn’t because they thought you were mean but because they couldn’t connect with you. They didn’t understand how you would choose on purpose to be alone.

 

Of course, there was nothing scary in your behavior but you also found out that people left you alone if you laughed and smiled with them.

 

Seeing the puzzled expression on the nurse’s face, you chuckled and shook your head.

 

“I know that’s weird but I really enjoy my alone time. And I find cities too noisy.”

 

Your laugh seemed to alleviate the tension and the two nurses joined you.

 

“I feel that! Sometimes I wished I didn’t have to hear my children screaming!” The first one said.

 

“But aren’t you scared that something will happen to you and nobody is here to help?” The second one asked.

 

You thought about her -rightful- question.

 

“Well…I think I can handle anything myself. For example, there is a big storm coming where I live. It’s probably going to cut the phone lines but I mostly have to secure my windows and I’ll be fine. I have plenty of food too.”

 

“What will you do if the killer is still around?”

 

You chuckled and waved her comment away with a slight movement of the hand. You weren’t in some kind of slasher movie. Plus, they  would certainly have to be really lost to find your house.

 

The second nurse slapped the first one on the shoulder, who yelped in pain.

 

“Don’t say that to her! “She scolded her, “You’re just going to scare her! Plus they said on the television that he had been arrested.”

 

“Arrested doesn’t mean dead yet.” The other one retorted, rubbing her shoulder.

 

You stared at the screen where they were showing police cars patrolling the streets under the heavy rain. So they finally had him. They never showed pictures of him but again, you didn’t watch much television.

 

Someone knocked on the window and you raised your head. It was the night nurse and you smiled back at her as you gestured to enter.

 

She handed you a box with gauze and other medical material for wounds.

 

“Here you go, love.” She said as she put her own stuff on the desk -a pillow was one of the items- “You should be good with all that.”

 

The two other nurses stared at you with curiosity as you thanked her.

 

“What’s all that for?”

 

The night nurse put her hand on her hip and pouted.

 

“You girls are noisy as hell.” She said, faking an upset expression, “This is none of your business.”

 

Everyone in the room burst out laughing and you put the box aside.

 

“It’s okay. I just happen to care for animals around my house from time to time. They end up on my porch and when I can, I heal their wounds. She helps me get my supplies.”

 

“You must have a big heart to take care of both humans and animals.” The nurse near the television said.

 

“Everyone has the right to be taken care of.” You answered softly.

 

You liked animals. You liked that they didn’t care about you or what you could say. You liked just being there for them and helping them as much as you could. They didn’t judge you, they didn’t complain. Maybe you could actually only connect to animals after all…

 

You took your notes and locked eyes with the night nurse.

 

“Shall we?”

 

Finally you could go home.

 

---

 

The ride home was as always a bit more than an hour away but it was very difficult for you to see the road with the rain. The wind was so strong that it felt more like the flow of a river than a rain shower. You felt like if you got your hand out of your vehicle, the rain would feel like living fabric.

 

The heavy downpour left little to no vision and you were relieved to finally see the familiar trees surrounding your house. All the street lights around the road leading to your place were out and you figured that the storm already did its work. It was only the beginning though and you knew you had little time left before you couldn’t even take your car anymore.

 

You stopped the car and turned off the engine. You glanced at the curtain of rain falling on your windshield with a doubtful expression. You took your bag, your box of supplies and started running towards the porch. The few meters between your car and the door were enough for you to be completely drenched. You exhaled heavily as you got your keys out and opened the door. The inside of your house was deliciously dry and smelled of pine trees and clean laundry.

 

You removed your shoes while trying not to soak your entryway and dropped your stuff on the ground. You hung your coat near the heater and immediately went up the stairs to get to the bathroom.

 

The hot shower felt really good and you felt like a whole new person after putting on comfortable clothes.

 

“Okay now I’ve got to secure everything. This is gonna be a big storm.” You thought to yourself as you pulled down your shirt.

 

You first checked that all the shutters were locked. It was an old house which probably belonged to a farmer at some point but everything had been built to stay in place. Hence, the shutters were old but robust. Outside, you could hear the wind howling and banging against them. The torrential rain was hitting the roof like solid rocks and if you had not already lived through enough storms, you would be scared for your house.

 

“It almost sounds like someone pounding on the door… ” You thought.

 

After checking the upper windows, you went back downstairs to go into the kitchen and see if the backdoor was locked. You looked outside and couldn’t even see past the first row of trees, on the border of your small garden. It was so dark now and the heavy rain obscured what could be left of scenery. As you were about to close the blinds, you squinted your eyes suddenly.

 

Was that someone standing outside in the rain?

 

You blinked and by the time you looked again, the shape was gone. You were pretty sure that it was the shadow of a tree but it surprised you for a moment. You sighed and shook your head. That was silly. You were the only soul for kilometers around. You wouldn’t be surprised if some animal tried to find shelter here though.

 

You made yourself some tea and decided to go upstairs with your box of supplies. You had three days off after tonight and you hoped that the storm would stop before you got back to work. You had to do several things like getting wood for the chimney, checking to see if some animals nearby were wounded after the storm and cleaning the house a little.

 

As you stored your supplies in a cupboard with all your other medical stuff, you wondered if you should take the time to see someone you knew or maybe socialize in the city. You liked being alone but sometimes you felt…sad about not having anyone to see. But you felt so scared of not connecting with anyone that you didn’t even want to actually try to make friends.

 

The only living beings you saw in the last few days were the animals you rescued. Maybe it wasn’t really sane for a human being. 

 

“You’re some kind of a recluse, right?”

 

The words of the nurse came back to you. That’s what you appeared to be to anyone else. A recluse, a hermit. Maybe after the storm you could go to Haddonfield and socialize. Talk to people. Maybe consider dating? You haven’t dated anyone in a long time and even when you did, it wasn’t for very long.

 

You sighed and sat on your bed. What was even wrong with you?

 

You were cut off in your own thoughts by a loud bang on the ground floor. You shuddered and immediately ran downstairs. You saw your front door wide open, swinging and hitting the wall behind it, pushed by the wind. 

You stared at it in disbelief. You were sure that the door was locked! Was the storm so strong that it burst the lock open? A loud thunderclap answered you. You groaned and raised your hands to protect you from the rain coming in, stinging like needles. You cautiously approached and grabbed the door before shutting it with a grunt. The wind howled behind it and you quickly locked it back.

 

You looked around and saw all the dead leaves and mud laying around on the wet floor.

 

“Aw, man…” You muttered.

 

Did all of this really get in in the split of a few minutes? You crouched to pick up the leaves and froze. A shiver ran down your spine as the unmistakable feeling of being watched passed through your whole body. You stayed like that for a few seconds, feeling your heart beating hard against your chest.

 

You slowly turned around to look through the window but it was pitch black outside. There was no one there. You stood up, anxiously crumpling the leaves between your fingers. What was that just now? The feeling you got was so intense, it couldn’t be just your imagination.

 

But you kept looking and there was nothing there. You took a deep breath and finished cleaning everything off the floor. You could still feel eyes watching you and it made you feel uneasy.

 

“It’s not like it could be the killer of Haddonfield…He has been arrested.” You said to yourself, shaking your head as you tried to reassure you.

 

Maybe the nurse did scare you. You were being paranoid. There was probably a deer outside staring at you in the night because all your lights were on.

 

As you held to that last thought, you heard a huge burst of thunder and all the lights went off. You stood there in the middle of your kitchen, momentarily blind. You felt particularly vulnerable at this instant.

 

Fortunately, as you were far from any kind of life or help, you always had spare candles and flashlights around. Once you could fathom the shapes of your furniture, you grabbed a drawer and got out a flashlight. You looked around and checked one last time the window to see if you saw anything suspicious before going back upstairs.

 

You felt like staying in your room for the night. As you walked up the stairs you felt again that uneasy feeling of being watched. Like a snake crawling under your skin. You shivered and closed the door behind you carefully. No one could have entered your home without being seen.

 

But after living alone for such a long time…You were sure that something wasn’t right.

 

You sat on your bed and turned off the flashlight, staring at your door. You listened carefully and at first, you only heard the pitter patter of the rain on the roof and the faraway rumble of the storm. But you caught a glimpse of something else.

 

Floorboards creaking.

 

You knew your house well enough to be sure this wasn’t just the “wood working”.

 

Someone was here.

 

You realized that your hands were shaking. You couldn’t even turn on the flashlight. If you weren’t mistaken, the sound was getting closer and you figured that whoever was here, they were walking up the stairs…

 

…Very slowly.

 

You clutched the flashlight against your chest, struggling to breath. You felt immensely scared but at the same time…angry. It was diffuse, and you weren’t even sure that it was anger. But you felt resentment. For disturbing your peaceful life, the actual start of your day off…This was your home. It was your territory and you wouldn’t be left quivering in a corner. Burglar or killer, you wouldn’t leave without a fight.

 

You mustered the courage to stand up and slowly walked towards the door. You tiptoed on the wooden floor, making sure not to make any noise. You couldn’t hear anything outside the door anymore. You wondered if whoever was outside, left. But just to be sure, you grabbed a scalpel in your drawer.

 

You approached your shaking hand from the doorknob, convinced that it would rattle before you touched it. Breathing sharply, you grasped it and flung the door open.

 

Time froze for a moment. But nothing happened.

 

A stifled breath escaped your lips as you faced the empty hallway. You walked carefully and glanced at the stairs. Lightning illuminated your house and you saw that it was empty, despite the darkness.

 

You were sure that you heard footsteps…But were you really just being paranoid? 

 

You anxiously checked the room on the other side of the hallway and after verifying that it was empty, you locked it. You sighed, feeling the tension slowly fading from your muscles. That’s why you never watched TV. It just made you paranoid for the smallest things. You needed to rest after three days of ten hours shifts. You probably imagined things.

 

You turned around and closed the door as you entered once again your bedroom. You were about to put the scalpel back in its drawer when you felt something sticky at the tip of your fingers. It was the one who grabbed the doorknob. You slowly glanced at your hand and a lightning strike illuminated your room through the shutters.

 

Your whole hand was red.

 

You had blood coating your fingers.

 

Your breath got caught in your throat and you froze, finally hearing the heavy breathing behind you.

 

You turned around slowly, whimpering slightly. Now that your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could fathom a tall man standing ominously beside the door. He was wearing a dark, dirty, jumpsuit and black boots. But what striked immediate fear in you was how pale he looked. His skin was the color of chalk and you couldn’t even see his eyes, it was just two black holes staring at you.

 

He stepped forward, and you instinctively stepped back. The floor creaked loudly under his weight and once out of the complete darkness, you could see that his head almost reached the ceiling. You somehow felt like each of his steps were unnecessarily heavy, as if he was struggling to actually walk.

 

As he got closer and closer, you started breathing erratically, unable to make a decision. You ended up tripping on your bed and you yelped, falling on the mattress.

 

He stopped at the foot of the bed, towering you with all his height, his breathing deep and ragged.

Chapter 2: A peculiar stranger

Notes:

Posting the second chapter in advance to give a preview of the fic. I should post every 1-2 weeks, so I hope you'll like this chapter :)

Chapter 2

 

You stared at him in terror, even forgetting that you held a scalpel. You tried to think, to reason but you were so deeply scared of the man in front of you that you could only stare like a deer in headlights.

He didn’t move for what seemed like ages and that’s when you noticed another sound. Something dripping on the floor. As another strike of lighting brought light into your room, you noticed that he was covered in blood. Was it his blood? Or someone else’s?

His breathing was so loud, it was actually the only thing which could distinguish him from a statue. Just when you were recollecting your thoughts, he made a sudden movement and motioned towards a bloodied hole in his coveralls. He kind of emitted a muffled groan -that’s when you realized that he was actually wearing a mask- and seemed to stumble. His huge bloodied hand stretched in front of him to grab you and you screamed, retreating towards the head of the bed, out of reach.

But his movement lacked accuracy and he suddenly hiccuped before falling flat on the bed. His whole body twitched then stayed inert.

Silence fell in the room and you could hear the storm outside again. You stared at the monstrously tall man lying motionlessly on your bed and allowed yourself to scream.

You scooted out of the bed and whimpered before running out of the room. You slammed the door shut and pressed your body against it, breathing heavily.

There was actually someone here!

Someone actually entered your house, you weren’t crazy! What kind of psycho would brave a storm to…to…to do what exactly?

What was this man doing here?

Should you call the police? Why did he drop dead all of a sudden? Was he even dead?

You tried to control your breathing as you started to feel dizzy. Was he here to kill you? You thought about all this blood…Was he wounded?

You had so many questions, yet so little answers. Now that you thought about it, he sure was creepy and was incredibly silent for getting in your room without you noticing. But he didn’t really try to do anything. What if he wanted help?

You stood in the hallway without moving, trying to think about your next move. You suddenly remembered the scalpel in your hand and you gripped it tightly. You could defend yourself. But you had to check what was going on.

You took the time to calm yourself then pressed your ear against the door. You didn’t hear anything aside from your own breathing. Was he really out?

You opened the door as silently as possible, making sure to hide behind the door in case he was waiting for you in the entry. You waited, and  since you didn’t hear any movement, you carefully entered the room. A few minutes had passed now and you saw that he was still laying in the exact same position you left him.

You swallowed with difficulty and approached him.

“Hey…” You first tried, your voice hoarse in your throat.

No response.

You waited some more then inhaled deeply. You dug your finger in his leg and retracted your hand quickly, afraid that he might grab it. But after a few seconds, it had become clear that he was completely out -or faking it really good-

You removed a hair strand from your face and got closer to him. You noticed that he was definitely wearing a mask. You approached your ear from his face and heard a faint breathing. So he was still alive.

Your sheets were covered in blood and the possibility that he was injured and looking for help struck you.

“Are you okay?” You tried, shaking his shoulder slightly.

No response. His breathing didn’t even change. You stared at him, wondering what you should do.

You used your whole strength to roll him over, and even more to get him fully on the bed. God, he was so big. How could a man reach such weight and height? 

He was now laying on his back and you grabbed your flashlight to check his wounds. You could actually see two holes in his overalls, one on his left side and the other under the right clavicle. Blood was pouring out of it and you gasped, realizing that he was indeed badly wounded.

You shined the flashlight on his face and saw that his eyes were closed. Looking closely you saw him sweating profusely under the mask. You touched his neck and was surprised by how burning hot he was. Did he have a fever? Maybe an infection.

You still had your scalpel and you realized that you held it above your head, ready to stab him. Somehow, your hand wasn’t shaking anymore, as if your body allowed you to be in perfect condition to kill. You confusedly lowered your arm and stared at your clenched fist. 

Would you kill him if you had to?

Your eyes drifted on his masked face. You could see his eyelids twitching as sweat fell in the crook of his orbits.

Everyone has the right to be taken care of , you remembered yourself saying.

You sighed and you thought that he looked almost pitiful despite his imposing stature. He reminded you of a wounded animal. You stood above him for several minutes then shook your head.

Ah, damn it. You were a nurse after all.

You put the scalpel down and went to grab the phone on the wall. The beeping sound you heard confirmed that the line was dead. So you couldn’t call the hospital or even call for help. Fine.

You grabbed a couple of candles and lit them to be able to see. He still had not moved.

You worked for a long time in the ER. You weren’t a doctor but you knew what to administer in case of emergency. You took all your medical supplies and spread them on the bed and on the floor. You grabbed the zipper of his coveralls and unzipped it enough to uncover his chest. He was wearing a black shirt which was slowly turning a dark red with the blood coating the fabric. The wounds were wide and the skin around it was red and swollen. Obviously, this was what was causing the fever. His wounds were infected and seeing how the skin started healing in some parts, they were left untreated for a while. So this man ran around with two literal holes in his body like it was nothing?

Why didn’t he go to a hospital?

You cleaned your hand and put on sterile gloves. This wasn’t the best place to do it but this would have to do. You took scissors to cut the shirt and remove it.

You were surprised by how many scars this man had. A lot of them seemed to have healed badly and left bubbly and thick scar tissues. Did he never treat his wounds? It was almost a shame because he had a very muscular torso, not like a bodybuilder, but more like someone who, coupled with good genetics, would have done hard work all their life.

Your fingers brushed the sides of the wound on the side and the man twitched slightly. Okay. You had to clean the wounds, stop the bleeding and ease the fever. You had everything for it.

Since the wound had healed a little, it wasn’t hard to stop the bleeding so you meticulously cleaned up everything and put on clean bandages. You wondered how much pain he was in. Throughout the process, he didn’t move much and you wondered if he was so out of it that he couldn’t feel anything.

You now had to administer him antipyretic, analgesic and antiinflammatory medication. You prepared a needle with one of them and flicked the chamber to let the bubbles out. You grabbed his arm and cleaned it with an alcohol soaked cotton. You didn’t have to wrap a tourniquet, his veins were protruding enough. 

As you approached the needle you noticed little purple dots all around the crook of his arm. Needle scars?

Where had this man been? Where was he coming from?

You planted the needle under his skin and he seemed to react to that. He huffed under his mask, trembling slightly. His free arm sloppily tried to grab you but only managed to brush against your arm stretching the skin. His hand came to rest on your hand and you felt his fingers gripping you tightly.

 

You froze, your heart beating hard in your chest cavity. He slowly raised his head to stare at you but somehow you could feel that he wasn’t really seeing you.

 

“I-I’m taking care of you. You’re badly wounded and burning up, I’m trying to save your life.” You said as calmly as possible, despite the primal urge to get away from him making your body tremble.

He breathed heavily and suddenly his head fell back on the pillow as the pressure on your hand stopped. He was out again.

You exhaled shakily and finished the injection.

Though you didn’t know anything about him, somehow your body screamed to create as much distance as you could between you and him.

 

---

 

After the more important cares, you stripped him from his coveralls and boots, leaving him in his underwear. You cleaned him up as much as you could then put a blanket over him. Touching his skin, you felt that it was less hot but still burning. You hoped that he was still going to cool down.

You sat next to him on a chair, staring at him intensely. It was now the middle of the night and the storm outside was still raging. You felt so tired now that the adrenaline had worn off.

In the dim light of the candles, your visitor looked like a stone statue, like the ones you could see on the graves of famous knights. You brushed your fingers against his hand, looking so big next to yours. It was calloused and his fingernails had blood and dirt under them.

“Where do you come from?” You murmured, staring at the scars on his arm.

What would this man do when he woke up? Would he try to hurt you? You weren't that scared anymore. Maybe he would be grateful. 

You sighed, laying your head on your crossed arms on the mattress. You felt like rocks had been placed on your eyelids and you slowly drifted to sleep. You were asleep in the space of a few minutes, lulled by the sound of the rain on the shutters.

Fifteen minutes passed and without you realizing, the man sat up silently on the bed. He seemed to gesture to his side, looking for something. Not finding anything, his head lowered to discover the bandages on his chest. The sound of his deep breathing echoed under his mask as he observed it.

He slowly looked around and finally noticed you next to him. He stared at you silently for five minutes, as still as a statue. Then he approached his hand and if you were awake, you would have felt the intense urge to kill emanating from him. His fingers twitched, fueled by primal murderous intents.

But he stopped in mid-movement, grunting slightly as he laid his hand on his bandages. He puffed and stayed still for a few seconds. He found himself out of breath and had to lay back down. He turned his head to the side to stare at the window. Through the cracks of the shutters he could see the storm outside.

He heard you hum next to him but he didn’t turn around. Sweating profusely, he realized the state he was in. Without noticing, he passed out and came back to his statue-like appearance. 

Thunder growled outside and the sound of the heavy rain filled the room.

 

---

 

In your dreams, you saw yourself as a doe.

You were in a forest and looking at the warm colors of the trees, you realized that it was the beginning of autumn. The leaves hid the sky, only a few fragments of blue remaining like scattered pieces of a puzzle. Sun beams fell on the floor like forgotten golden coins, illuminating the forest as if it was the end of the afternoon.

Your nose twitched and you heard the sound of a river nearby. You approached it and lowered your head to stare at your reflection. At first, you saw a doe looking back at you with dark eyes. Then the stream blurred it and you found the outlines of your face changing. When the flow of the river calmed down, you discovered that you didn’t have the face of a doe anymore but the gray furry face of a wolf staring back at you with yellow eyes.

 

You gasped and stumbled backwards.

 

That’s when you saw on the other side of the river, two eyes staring at you in the darkness, one orange and the other white. You could fathom the shape of a big black wolf among the leaves. You breathed shakily as you saw it approaching silently…but the more he got closer, the more you could see its shape changing, the eyes getting higher above the ground. When it reached the border of the river, just before the darkness was replaced by light, the eyes were now reaching the lower branches of the higher trees.

And those eyes…Were staring back at you, unmoving, not blinking.

You tried to scream but you only heard the sound of a wolf howling.

You shuddered and woke up. Confused, you removed a drop of sweat that was falling in your eye. Did you just have a nightmare? You couldn’t remember the last time you had one. You cleared your throat and noticed that the storm was still very well here, wind and rain pounding against the walls.

How long were you asleep?

You sat up and noticed something.

The man was gone.

There were only the bloodied empty sheets before you.

You gasped, and looked around the room, but even with a few candles out, you could see that he was nowhere to be found. You jumped out of your chair and looked in the closet -just to be sure-

Where did he go?

Should you be worried about him…or about you?

You opened the door and waited. You couldn’t hear anything apart from the storm outside.

“Are you still here?” You asked in the darkness of your own house.

You really had to light more candles. You took your flashlight and went down the stairs. As you arrived on the first floor you noticed small drops of blood on the ground. You were pretty sure that in his state, he probably reopened his wounds.

He might be weak but you still didn’t feel really safe. You checked the front door but it was still locked. You pointed your flashlight towards the living room but obviously, there was no one there.

A strike of thunder cracked and you jumped, a small cry escaping your lips. Oh, you were nervous. You turned towards the kitchen and that’s when you saw a tall shadow stretching towards you. Your breath got stuck in your throat and you froze. With the backlight of the backdoor, you could see that his back was facing you, as if he was looking through the window, standing so, so very still.

Why did he make his way to the kitchen?

Pointing the flashlight in his direction, you cleared your throat.

“You should get back to bed.” You managed to say, hoping that your voice won’t betray your inner fear, “Your wounds are reopening.”

You checked the clock on the wall. 7 am. The sun was about to rise and still, it looked like it was the middle of the night. The fact that your house was so dark made you more nervous than you should.

The man didn’t budge and as far as you could tell, you weren’t sure he heard you. You could hear him breathing under his mask, slowly, calmly. Another sound caught your attention, and you looked down to see blood dripping on the floor between his feet.

He absolutely had to get back to bed.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked, reaching for his arm.

You thought he was going to turn around suddenly but nothing happened. He was drenched in sweat. You frowned and circled around him. Your eyes opened wide when you shined the flashlight on his face.

He had passed out.

He was standing, straight as an arrow in the middle of the kitchen and his eyes -well, one of his eyes as the other was completely white and blind- were slightly revulsed, the eyelids twitching sporadically. 

“What the hell…” You whispered, waving your hand in front of him.

What kind of force of nature would pass out still standing? Considering his wounds he should be in so much pain that he could barely move -or only scream- and with the injections, he should be completely out.

That was the scariest thing you’ve ever seen, in years of being a nurse. Was he even human?

You grabbed his wrist and pulled him. You felt like pulling on a rope attached to a wall. Trying harder, his chest slightly moved forward but he didn’t seem to wake up.

“Come with me, I’m going to take you to another bed.” You said, hoping that it would reach somewhere in his mind.

Somehow, he started walking -if you could call that walking but rather putting one foot in front of the other- as you wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You noticed that one drawer was open as you left the kitchen, the one with the cutlery. You frowned questioningly but thought that you would check that later.

There was a secondary bedroom for people staying over on this floor. You had never been so glad to have one -thinking that it was useless since you barely invited anybody- and managed to reach it. He was so heavy, you had sweat beading on your temples. You prayed that you would reach the bed before his half awake state wore off. 

Fortunately for you, just when you felt that all his body weight was falling on you, you dropped him on the mattress. You panted, massaging your neck.

“I’ve never seen anyone like you, mister…” You muttered, positioning him better on the bed.

You sighed tiredly and sat on the bed next to him. The white of the bandages was slightly turning entirely red. You had to change them quickly.

You stared at him, watching his torso falling and rising with each breath. You weren’t that scared anymore as he didn’t try to do anything to you. He still had not talked to you either. Maybe when he woke up he could explain what happened to him?

He grunted under his mask but without waking up. What was up with this mask anyway? You totally forgot to remove it as you were treating his wounds. It was way past Halloween now, who would still wear that except children?

You didn’t know what he looked like either.

You pursed your lips and considered it for a moment. Then slowly, you leaned forward and grabbed the border of the mask.

You weren’t even past his jawline that his arms suddenly wrapped around you, squeezing you against him.

You cried out and saw his blood-shot eye staring at you or rather…past you. If his body was conscious, his mind was probably not. He was so strong that you could hear your ribs creaking inside you. It was like having two metallic rods squeezing you to death.

You tried to get away, pushing your palms against his pectorals. But his grip was powerful and you struggled against him. His bare skin was hot, radiating heat like fire heated stones.

Still holding you with one arm, he raised the other in the air, gripping his fist tightly. At first, you thought that he wanted to punch you, but the position of the fist wasn’t right. It looked like he thought he was holding something…like a wooden bat or something with a handle.

You panted, realizing that he might be delirious. You pressed your hands against his neck.

“L-Listen to me! You’re safe, I’ll leave the mask alone.” You whined, your ribs hurting like hell.

In the pale darkness of the room, only illuminated by the flashlight which had rolled around on the floor, you saw him raising his head to stare at you. He was shaking slightly and you felt the pressure on your stomach increasing.

You cried in pain, your hand reaching his, still in the air. His face was inches from yours and you could feel his hot breath through the small opening of the mouth. You were in some kind of weird dancing position and your heart was pounding inside your chest. You couldn’t see his eyes anymore.

Was he going to kill you ?

You thought about the scalpel in your bedroom and cursed yourself for not bringing it with you.

After what seemed an eternity, his grip loosened and he fell flatly on the bed. You inhaled sharply, whining slightly as a dull pain radiated throughout your back and ribs. You sat on the floor and caught your breath, painfully rubbing your back. How could someone be so strong? He didn’t even have his full capacity, so how strong was he in reality?

You raised your gaze and saw that he had passed out again. To be honest, you didn’t even know how he was still alive, and even less conscious. Your heart was still beating hard inside, but you didn’t want to let that last interaction get to you.

It wasn’t the first time that one of your patients tried to attack you. Working in the ER showed you every side of humanity, and even the nicest person on earth could become a real devil if wounded. You lost count of times someone tried to strangle you when you were treating them.

You got back on your feet and took a deep breath. At least now something was clear.

The mask stayed on.

Notes:

That's not how you actually take care of someone wounded please don't take notes, I've worked in hospitals and using a few things for the fic but it's all writing magic lmaoo

Chapter 3: A rather silent roommate

Summary:

Michael Myers is confused

The day went by without any more incident. You took the opportunity to wash your bedroom’s sheets -covered in blood- and his jumpsuit. The storm outside didn’t seem to calm down but as far as you could tell, there wasn’t any thunder anymore which was a good sign. 

You tried the phone line but it still didn’t work. It wasn’t that much of a problem compared to the light. You managed to get an old generator running but it could only light up the living room and one or two rooms -and not even your own bedroom-

From time to time you checked on your patient. He seemed to be resting and had not moved much during the day. Sometimes he was so still that you were scared he had died. Touching him reassured you as you could actually feel his chest moving. 

When you had to do a few things in his room, you talked to him a little, it helped you feel less nervous about having a stranger in your home.

“I think I’ll have to sew the holes on your coveralls.” You said as you hanged them to dry in a corner, “I don’t know when you’ll wake up but you might be happy if someone took care of them.”

Only his steady breathing answered you. You didn’t mind actually. You mostly talked to the animals you rescued and didn’t wait for an answer.

Not like he was an animal. You weren’t saying that.

You sighed and shook your head. You definitely needed to talk to more people.

It would be nice to talk to him once he felt better.

 

---

 

As it was starting to get darker outside -not like it was very bright to begin with- you lighted more candles in case the generator broke. Since his coveralls had dried up a little you decided to sew the holes.

You sat in the living room and got out your sewing kit. You brushed the fabric with your fingertips and saw how worn it was. Even after washing it, there were some dark stains remaining. This was such a weird thing to wear casually. Was it also part of his Halloween costume?

You weren’t the kind to judge but you truly thought that he would be grateful to have them back in a good state. You hummed quietly as you rose the needle in the air to straighten the thread. You remembered his black shirt which now looked like a rag. You wondered if you had any shirt that could fit him.

You were reminded of a box full of old clothes you had in the guest room. You collected them from people who didn’t need them anymore to make cloths for cleaning.

You put the coveralls down and decided to check. Since he was sleeping, you only lit one candle in the room to keep it mostly dark. You knew that in this state, he probably wouldn’t be able to wake up easily so you weren’t worried about disturbing him.

You entered the room silently and glanced in the direction of the bed. In the dim and warm light of the candle, you could make out the shape of his body laying on the bed. You weren’t that nervous around him anymore but you still felt a hint of anxiety at the thought of finding him standing somewhere without you knowing.

Well, last time you were asleep. He couldn’t be that silent while moving, could he?

You walked to the other side of the room to get to the closet. You opened it and crouched to open the cardboard box lying at the bottom. You couldn’t see well with only the candle but while rummaging through it, you could see big shirts which could do the trick.

You got out a big black shirt and stretched it in front of your eyes.

“What even is his size? ” You wondered, trying to read the tag on the collar.

Suddenly, the light considerably declined and you could barely read it. You sighed, thinking that you should have brought your flashlight. With the wind outside, it was easy for a candle to be blown out.

You turned your head towards the candle and immediately froze as you found yourself face to face with a pair of legs. You jumped and almost crashed inside the closet as you saw him standing tall above you.

“Oh, my, God !” You swore angrily, “Don’t do that!”

You stood up and he watched you silently, tilting his head on the side as you closed the closet. He was still wearing that weird mask. How could he be so silent? How could he be awake?!

“You could have at least said something instead of sneaking up on me.” You muttered, staring at him.

Next to him, your head reached the middle of his pectorals. He was a giant and his stature made him even bigger.

You waited for an answer, but he only tilted his head on the other side, as if he was questioning your reaction. Was he mute? At least, he wasn’t trying to beat you up, which comforted you in the idea that he might have been wanting help.

“I don’t know if you remember, but you barged into my house all wounded. I’m a nurse so I did my best to take care of you since I can’t bring you to a hospital because of the storm.” You explained as you gestured to his bandages.

He slowly lowered his head to follow your hand then went back to staring at you. You cleared your throat, his silence making you nervous. Maybe he hurt his vocal cords as well? After all, you didn’t know what happened to him. But it sure was a miracle for him to be standing in front of you without screaming in pain. The cocktail of medication you gave him also surely made him confused.

“I was looking for clothes that could fit you.” You said as you showed him the shirt in your hands, “I’m sorry I woke you up. You should get back to bed though, ‘wouldn’t want you to reopen your wounds.”

No reaction. No answer.

Fine.

You dropped the shirt on a small table nearby and smiled politely. Feeling awkward, you decided to leave the room, thinking that he wanted to be alone. He watched you silently all the way to the living room. It almost seemed like he was waiting for something…A reaction? What kind of reaction were you even supposed to have? 

You sat back on the couch and grabbed the coveralls to continue sewing. He was a rather calm person you thought. There was probably nothing to worry about.

Stabbing the needle in the fabric, you saw a shadow appearing above you and you sighed.

“For someone your size, you sure are very quiet.” You said without turning back.

You could hear and feel him breathing on your neck. It was a bit unnerving you had to admit, but you decided that you shouldn’t show it. If he wanted to talk, he would do it in his own time.

Since you didn’t turn around, you heard him making his way to the front of the couch. He was wearing the black shirt that you brought him so at least that was good. You had to admit that from an objective point of view, he had an attractive body. He still was in his underwear and you blushed slightly, trying to avoid looking at him standing in front of you. 

He probably wanted you to finish sewing.

“You can sit next to me, I’ll be done soon.”

Steady breathing, no answer. You gestured towards the empty place next to you but he only stared at you. Then, he walked towards the window.

Well fuck me I guess , you thought.

He looked through the shutters, probably to check the storm. He still didn’t say a word.

“So what happened? How did you do that to yourself?” You asked to make small talk.

He turned his head in your direction and tilted it on the side. That was a weird habit to have and you didn’t know him well, but it almost seemed like he was confused.

Well, as much as a marble statue could show emotions…

“You don’t want to tell? That’s fine, I guess.” You shrugged, lifting the needle in the air, “Can I at least know your name?”

You waited a few seconds. Oh, surprise! No answer. Again.

At this point you were pretty sure he was mute. Or at least had a selective mutism. Well, you didn’t really complain. It wasn’t like you really wanted to connect with him.

You straightened the thread one last time then cut it with your teeth. You secured the ends and stared at your work with satisfaction. You chose a thread which was almost the same color as the fabric so it blended perfectly.

You stood up and walked towards him, holding the coveralls in front of you.

“I think you can wear it now, it should be better.”

At first, he didn’t move and if by now you didn’t know him, it would almost feel like he didn’t hear you. But he leaned forward, slowly, silently and grabbed your wrist. It wasn’t painful, but his grip was firm. You opened your mouth to say something but he pulled you closer and a small yelp escaped your lips. He brought his face close to you, as if he wanted to see you better.

His head moved from side to side, very slowly, as his eye stared at you intensely under the mask. You were confused by his actions and felt like you were being sniffed by a guard dog. Your heart pounded against your chest but something other than nervousness settled in. 

When was the last time you were this close to someone’s face?

“Erm…I hope you don’t mind me patching it up for you.” You said in a small voice.

When you could feel your face heating up, his hand slid along yours to grab his coveralls. You realized that you had stopped breathing and took a step back to take a deep breath. He seemed totally unfazed by what he just did and barely looked at you anymore.

What a weird man…You didn’t really understand him.

You watched him as he put it on. He was doing it rather brutally and you raised your hand in an appeasing gesture.

“Wait, if you do it like that…” You started but you stopped in mid-sentence when you heard a muffled grunt under his mask.

He seemed to lose his balance and stumbled as his hand grasped his side. He looked confused as he fell on one knee, looking at where his wound was. Somehow, you could tell that his body was protesting the difficult treatment but that he wasn't actually feeling any pain.

If that was the case, his breathing rate would have changed. But you could almost hear him huff in frustration.

“You have to take it easy.” You said as you grabbed his arm and he immediately stared at you, “Even if you have urgent things to do, you have to let your body rest.”

You felt like parenting a child. Did he even know what was happening to him?

You helped him stand up -well not really helping as he actually stood up on his own and you almost got lifted in the air- and told him that you were going to make dinner. Of course, he watched you the whole time as you made it but at least, he wasn’t doing anything rough to his body. Maybe he was just shy.

You made chicken soup with enough chicken and vegetables in it to be consistent. You were pretty sure he needed to eat anyway.

It was now darker outside and you found comfort in the sound of the rain which wasn’t that aggressive anymore. The wind was still here and you could hear it howling in the empty cracks of your house. Even if you had the strangest guest, you were glad to have someone for dinner. Was it strange to not be scared of such a mysterious man?

In a way, he reminded you of a lost animal, the same which came wounded on your doorstep. He didn’t talk, was brutal and always staring at you. But maybe he appreciated your help.

Maybe just like you, he couldn’t connect to people.

You sighed and took the two big bowls full of chicken soup in your hands.

“Let’s eat that in your room.” You said as you walked past him, “It’s better if you stayed in your bed starting now.”

You were worried about his wounds, he didn’t seem to be very aware of his own pain and it often was a problem in a healing process.

He followed you silently and you could feel his gaze on the back of your neck. Such a peculiar man…

You sat on the bed and put the bowls on the bedside table. He stood in the doorway for a bit then finally came to sit next to you. He sat rather violently and you almost got ejected from the mattress. Ignoring that, you handed him his bowl.

“You should eat. You’ll feel better.”

He didn’t even glance at the bowl and did that weird little movement of the head. Not hungry, you thought. Well, maybe he needed an example. You put the bowl down and grabbed yours instead and started eating. He watched you all along.

The room was still illuminated by that single candle and the ambiance was almost cozy. You always felt some kind of tension when you were in the room with him in silence, but you couldn’t lay a finger on what kind. Well, if he wanted to stay silent you understood.

“You must find me weird, living alone, kilometers away from any town.” You said, swallowing a spoonful of soup, “I don’t even know how you found this place…You have to go through a whole forest to find it.”

His breathing answered you. He was sitting very still, his back straight as an arrow. You wondered for a moment if besides being mute, maybe he was deaf. You stared back at him thoughtfully, eating a piece of chicken. Then after a few seconds, you put your bowl down and gently took his hand.

You didn’t feel him resisting but you were surprised by the tension emanating from him. It was almost tangible, like despite being completely still, he was inhabited by powerful feelings or impulses. His blood flow was pulsing hard under your fingertips.

Ignoring this weird discovery, you opened his palm and started writing down something with your finger.

“N-A-M-E ?”

You raised your head to stare at him but if he understood, he didn’t express anything. You couldn’t even see his eyes. You sighed, at least it was worth a try.

You were about to remove your hand when he grabbed it. It was so big compared to yours that it almost disappeared under. You let him, curious about his intentions.

He brought it to his chest and unzipped his coveralls. Your whole face flushed red and you started panicking when he pressed it on his shirt. He felt hot to the touch.

“I-I…What are you doing?” You croaked as he tilted his head to the side. Your heart could barely handle it and you wondered if he could hear your heartbeats in the silence of the room.

A tingling sensation nested in your guts, you felt adrenaline pumping inside your veins but you couldn’t tell why. A million thoughts passed by your confused mind but suddenly, as he pressed it harder against him, you frowned.

You grabbed the fabric of his shirt and lifted it. His bandages were starting to be soaked in blood as his wound was bleeding. You cleared your throat and shamefully shook your head.

Oh, yeah. Of course.

You changed them and cursed you mentally for being like this. You finished dinner but he didn’t seem interested in eating now. You left his bowl on the bedside table though. He might be mute or deaf, but apparently he was well aware of what you could do to help him.

Later, you laughed at yourself for reacting like that. You felt like it was easier to allow yourself these types of emotions with him having a mask. You weren’t disturbed by his gaze or his expressions. He was strange and silent but weren’t you the same, living alone in your little house in the woods?

Sometimes when you looked at him, you felt something unknown rising at the bottom of your stomach. That tingling sensation. You couldn’t tell what it was, it felt like nervousness but was both way more dull and way more powerful than that. Like your body screaming, banging, inside something you couldn’t understand.

What an odd feeling.

He needed you as much as you needed him somewhere.

Was it healthy? Was it good?

You weren’t sure.

But it felt true.

Notes:

yeah she should be more careful than that...

Chapter 4: Unfinished business

Summary:

Michael is battling with indecision

Notes:

Thank you for the comments and kudos! I hope you'll like this new chapter :)
I'll be posting every two weeks now!

Last night you went to sleep after doing the dishes. You told him that he should rest and that he could go anywhere he wanted in the house except in your bedroom. As always, you didn’t get an answer from him. But you were sure that he actually listened to you. But just in case, you locked your door since he had an annoying habit of standing silently in a corner to watch you.

You read a book to fall asleep faster and heard him walking in his own bedroom, which was just under yours. You wondered how he occupied himself in his free time. The coveralls were probably a hint that he worked as a gardener or a plumber. But you weren’t even sure. You suspected them to actually be this kind of weird Halloween costume. What kind of costume was it anyway?

You fell asleep without knowing it and had the strangest dream.

You woke up in your bedroom and saw him standing in front of you. At first, you thought that you were somehow standing up as well. But after a while you realized that you were actually laying on your back in your bed and he was hovering above you in a standing position. He was facing you, tilting his head like he always did.

You mirrored him, tilting your head in the same way. The dream made things around you blurry and you had trouble focusing. You realized that he was holding your hand which was curled into a fist against him. You frowned, wondering what was in your hand.

You realized in horror that you were holding a scalpel and pushing it into his chest. The blade was well embedded into his skin and blood bubbled out of the wound.

You stared at him, trying to tell him that you didn’t want to. But despite holding your hand, he wasn’t trying to remove it.

Instead, he raised his free hand and lifted the bottom of his mask, revealing his jaw and his bottom lip. He leaned in and you heard a wet squelching noise when the blade sank deeper into him. He approached his face and his lips brushed against your cheek as he whispered something.

You woke up, blinking your way back to reality. You gasped as you realized you were in the same position you left the dream, your hand clenching to the flashlight that was supposed to be on your bedside table.

You groaned anxiously and threw the flashlight on the ground. You were on the bridge of sleepwalking. What even was this dream?

You confusedly stared at your palms then exhaled deeply. You ran a hand through your hair and sat up. 

You couldn’t remember what he whispered to you, if he talked at all.

You shook your head, looking annoyed. There was no point in remembering that anyway. That was just a stupid dream. 

You realized that a soft light was piercing through the cracks of your windows. Now that you listened to it, you couldn’t hear any sound of rain or wind either.

You opened the shutters and realized that it was raining lightly outside but overall, the storm was gone. You were glad to see again the forest stretching in front of you, patches of brown, red and yellow making such a beautiful sea of colors for you every morning.

You inhaled the fresh smell of wet wood and damp dirt floating in the air. 

Putting on some clothes, you unlocked your door and as you opened it, you noticed footprints in front of your doorstep. Did he knock on the door during the night and you didn’t hear him? No, you would have heard it. Then if he didn’t, why would he stand in front of your door like that?

Well, it wasn’t like you couldn’t ask him. Maybe you could get an answer this time.

You yawned, feeling like you hadn’t slept. Those nightmares really disturbed your sleep and you wondered if you were going to take a nap later, and went downstairs. His bedroom was closed so you figured he was still sleeping. You knocked nonetheless.

“I’ll prepare breakfast if you want any.” You said.

You waited for a -probably non existent- answer but couldn’t hear anything moving on the other side. You frowned but wasn’t really surprised as he was very quiet.

“I’m coming in.” You said, waiting a few seconds before entering so he would have the time to cover himself if he wasn’t dressed.

The door creaked open as you pushed it and you found the room empty. A warm light was coming through the window, little particles of dust floating in front of it. At first, you thought that he was standing silently in a corner and you checked everywhere in the room.

Turned out that the room was definitely empty but you noticed that the bed was used. The bowl was still resting on the bedside table and you could see only liquid at the bottom as every piece of meat or vegetable had been eaten. Actually, there was soup everywhere on the table and the spoon was untouched. Did he eat with his hands?

You scratched the back of your head, wondering where he could have gone. You checked the living room, the bathroom and the other rooms, but they were empty as well. When you arrived in the kitchen, you noticed that the backdoor was slightly open. You sighed and after staring at it for a moment, you closed it.

So he was gone…

You felt a twinge at that thought. He didn’t even say goodbye. It wasn’t like you wanted him to thank you and worship you for your help…But you actually expected him to stay longer. You didn’t really know why it made you feel this way. When an animal ran away after being healed, it was for you a sign that you had taken good care of them. You couldn’t expect him to stay with you just because you nursed him in your home.

And yet…

Well, you were glad that he wasn’t following you everywhere in silence anymore as it was unnerving. But you also wondered if he would be able to take care of his wounds alone.

As you made yourself some tea, you shook your head at that last thought. Alone …He probably had his own life. He probably had a family or friends waiting for him somewhere. A place to go. He might be strange but maybe he had a strange family as well.

You breathed sharply through your nose. Now was not the time to linger. You had your own life as well and since you lived alone, you could only count on yourself to take care of this house.

You didn’t need anyone. And to you, he was just another wounded animal who needed your help.

Waiting for your tea to cool down, you opened all the shutters in your house. It felt so much better to have natural light come into the rooms. You opened the kitchen window and saw all the leaves, branches and debris the storm brought around your house. You were going to take care of that as well.

You opened the front door and threw away all the big branches blocking the way. Then you used a broom to sweep the porch which was full of dirt. You had a lot to do today.

 

---

 

The rain stopped outside and the air was now cold and humid. The sun was shining but a light fog filled the air, and you truly felt the end of autumn coming. After getting into cargo pants and boots, you cleaned everything around your house.

It was very hard work as the storm had pretty much covered your whole property in branches, leaves and other stuff. You even had to cut up a small tree which had fallen in your garden. You didn’t mind living alone and having to do this. It kept you busy and you didn’t have to think about your strange man.

But you found yourself looking several times at the woods surrounding your house, in hope to see him coming back.

As you grabbed your axe firmly and sank it in a big piece of wood, you shook your head. 

Chop. 

You didn’t miss him. That was stupid. But you had to admit that you kind of missed having someone over. You had equivocal feelings about him. You thought about the way he grabbed you, the tangible yet invisible tension inside his body which you could feel when you touched him. Could you be wanting to know more about him ? Or was it something else ?

You stared at your hands holding the axe and stood motionlessly for a second. You sighed.

Chop.

It took you the whole afternoon to get a decent garden. Not to mention that you had to wash the shutters which were covered in mud and put the wood somewhere to dry for your chimney.

When you got back inside your house, you were exhausted. At least it kept your thoughts away…But now that this was done, you had to check the electricity. Turning on and off the switches, you were relieved to see that they all worked. You grabbed the phone and heard the regular beeping sound.

“ Great, so everything works. ” You thought, putting your hands on your hips in a satisfied gesture, “ Might as well see if the television is working… ”

You didn’t use it much but if it wasn’t working, it might be a sign of an underlying electrical problem. It was a small television in a corner of the living room but you weren’t really worried about it not working.

 You took a warm shower to remove all the dirt sticking to your skin and got into clean cargo pants and a tank top -your house was warm enough for it with the heater-

As you made yourself a hot coffee, you yawned and nonchalantly pressed a button on the remote, barely looking at the screen. The sun outside was now setting, and you were reminded once again of winter starting as days got shorter and shorter. Your house bathed in red and gold colors, catching the last sun rays before the night came. You were so tired that you thought about going to bed sooner. Besides your hard work, you didn’t sleep well either last night after all.

You fell on the news and idly listened to it as you sipped your coffee.

“. ..Famous serial killer Michael Myers, came back to kill two more people in Haddonfield last night. ” A female reporter stated.

You rolled your eyes and uncontrollably yawned once again. They weren’t even talking about the storm. They were probably talking about the night of Halloween again, as the news loved to ramble on past events.

The news reporter shoved the mic in front of the mouth of a police officer. You realized that it was a live broadcast.

“What can you tell us about the events which took place last night ?”

The officer obviously looked uncomfortable but did his best to not show it.

“After Myers escaped from the vehicle transferring him to a local hospital, following his arrest…We lost track of him. He was supposed to be wounded lethally but he still managed to kill two guards .” He sniffed and looked around shamefully, “ He hid for a few days somewhere and came back last night to kill two more people…Teenagers. We’re on the lookout, securing the perimeter and actively searching through all Haddonfield for him.”

You frowned and wondered why the timing of the murders made you feel uncomfortable. You had no idea the murderer was still on the loose.

“. ..Thank you officer. If you have any information about this man, call the number below. ” The reporter turned towards the camera and a drawing appeared on the screen, followed by a telephone number, “ This individual is to be avoided at all cost. He will kill on sight .”

Your jaw dropped when you saw the pale drawing of the murderer. It was a man with a white Halloween mask and dark navy blue coveralls.

It was your stranger.

The man you helped and nursed back to health… The man you kept in your house for several days…was the dangerous serial killer everyone talked about?

You had to put your cup down and turn off the television as you felt extremely dizzy. You held your head in your hands. Did you really help a murderer? You remembered the footsteps in front of your bedroom which sent a shiver down your spine.

But it didn’t make any sense…He had plenty of opportunities to kill you. He might have been brutal but you never even had a fight with him.

Then why were you still alive?

You felt the beginning of a headache and groaned. He had no reason to keep you alive. Perhaps he was waiting to feel better? But then, if he was feeling good enough to kill two more people last night, why not you?

It still didn’t make sense…Unless…

Unless he was now on his way to finish his job.

Cold sweat fell down your back. You glanced outside and saw cold blue hues replacing the warm, comforting colors of the sun. The night was coming. Soon, you wouldn’t be able to see him coming from afar.

If he wasn’t already there.

You instinctively locked all the doors. If you remembered, last time a door didn’t stop him from coming in. But since the backdoor had locks on the edges too, whereas the front didn’t, you knew that if he had to enter, that would be that way.

You weren’t even sure that he would be coming for you. But some intuition, some primal survival instinct, whispered to you that this wasn’t over. You felt like a lamb, tied up to a poll on a hill, bordered by trees hiding the wolves around. 

He will be back and this time, he might not be as docile as he was. You didn’t know if he was coming tonight but you didn’t want to take any risk. He seemed to be a fast traveler and with how much time it took you to realize who he really was, he was probably near.

But no one would enter your house tonight, you would make sure of it. This was your house, your territory…You had an advantage.

You took the scalpel and after checking at the upper windows if you could see anyone approaching, you decided to sit on the stairs facing the front door. You weren’t going to let him pick you up like a wild flower on the side of the road. You were going to wait for him…armed and ready.

You fiddled with the scalpel and rested your head against the wall, your eyes fixed on the door. Maybe it was stupid to heal some stranger coming out of nowhere…You couldn’t believe you actually thought that you missed him. But were you to blame as a medical worker? What kind of caregiver were you if you left someone to die in a storm?

You thoughtfully stared at your reflection on the scalpel’s blade.

Was he really going to kill you after what you did for him?

You rubbed your tired eyes and yawned.

Maybe he was never coming back…

You dozed off without realizing it, curled up against the stairs. 

---

 

You were woken up by a loud thud and almost hit your head against the wall. You looked around in a panic and noticed you had dropped your weapon between your legs. You graped it frenetically and tried to blink the fatigue away.

What time was it? How long were you asleep?

You could see that it was pitch black outside. You cursed your troubled nights and exhausting day. If you had seen the news sooner, you would have been prepared for the day. But it seemed like the several days of working at the hospital smacked you in the face. You didn’t even turn on the lights before falling asleep and it was impossibly dark in your house.

What was the noise you just heard though?

You listened carefully. It was faint but since the house was so silent, you could hear it clearly.

Footsteps on grass.

Your heart raced and you squeezed the scalpel tightly in your hands. He did come back. You stared at the front door, your throat as dry as dirt. So you were right after all. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to follow where he was going. He was walking slowly, circling around your house calmly, like he had all the time in the world. If you had any doubt that it was him, you were now pretty sure of it. There was something so unnerving about his footsteps. You could feel how relaxed he was. Meanwhile, your hands were sweating around your pitiful weapon, a lump forming in your throat.

All of a sudden, the footsteps stopped somewhere in the garden out back. You frowned, focusing really hard to hear the slightest sound. You could faintly hear the rustle of clothes but nothing else.

What was he doing ?

Your eyes opened wide when realization struck you.

The window in the kitchen. You didn’t close it.

You jumped on your feet when you heard the sound of a metallic object scraping against the wooden window frame and one single footstep on your floorboards.

He was inside.

Adrenaline pumping inside your veins, you ran up the stairs and hid in the first room you could find, which was your bathroom. You stopped yourself from slamming the door and quietly locked it. You panted heavily, pressing your back against it. Did he hear you? You weren’t sure. He could be here any moment now.

What were you going to do?

You breathed sharply through your nose, looking around the room. The window was small, there was no way you could pass through it. Hide in the bathtub? You weren’t in some kind of fiction, he would find you right away. You were so sure that you would be safe if he didn’t get inside the house. But now that he was here, you were trapped in the same cage as him.

What were your options? Hide…or run away ?

You glanced down at your scalpel.

Kill him first… ?

You shook your head nervously. You weren’t a killer. This was out of the question, he was way stronger than you.

You sighed and pressed your ear against the door. You could hear footsteps downstairs.

“ He is looking through the rooms…looking for me.” You thought as you heard him entering the guest room below.

Hiding wasn’t an option then, he was looking everywhere. But maybe…You could try to fool him.

The door downstairs closed. Silence. A single drop of sweat rolled down your back.

You heard a creak somewhere and then a hissing sound so soft you almost missed it.

Foot on the first step. Hand on the wooden handrail.

You listened carefully as he went up the stairs. They creaked under his weight and you stopped breathing when he arrived at the same floor as you. He just had to go into your bedroom…Then, you would run out of the bathroom. But you weren’t sure he would choose it first. If he tried the bathroom and saw that it was locked…It was over for you.

Silence. He paused for what seemed an eternity.

You shakily exhaled when he walked past your door and you heard him open -as expected- your bedroom’s. Holding your breath, you unlocked as silently as possible the door and snuck out, making sure to also close it behind you. You caught a glimpse of him disappearing inside and then heard him opening the closet.

Your heart raced when you walked by the door open, ready to see him jumping out of the room at any moment.

You tiptoed your way downstairs, making sure to avoid the second and fifth steps which creaked. You didn’t have much time as there weren’t a lot of places to hide in your bedroom.

You quietly and quickly ran to the backdoor -as the front door was too close to the stairs and he could easily catch you- , upstairs you could hear him open the bathroom’s door.

You started sweating profusely despite feeling the cold air outside coming from cracks in the door.

You had to unlock all the locks and then run into the forest. You could hide there, as it was a big one.

As you finished with the last lock, you carefully grabbed the doorknob and turned it slowly. But as you pulled it, nothing happened. You frowned and pulled harder but the door wouldn’t budge. Panicking, you rattled it.

Why was it stuck?!

You didn’t have time. You tried pulling with all your strength, making more noise than necessary. You were panicking. 

You heard him slamming a door and making his way to the stairs. You yelped and went for the kitchen window. As you tried to crawl out, you saw the back door with a full log blocking the doorknob on the outside. The loud thud.

“Motherf…” You started but were instantly pulled backwards.

You shrieked as you felt his hand grasping your waist. His grip was strong, inhuman, and you screamed your heart out as you violently turned around to stab him with your scalpel. He let go of you to stop your arm and smacked it away from your hands. Your only weapon flew across the kitchen somewhere out of reach. 

You swore under your breath and ducked to escape his grip. You elbowed his ribs on your way -just where his wound was- and he groaned, falling on one knee. So he wanted to be healed and kill you as a thank you?

Then you would make sure to bring back the pain with you.

 You could hear him breathing hard under his mask as you sprinted in the other direction, trying to get to the front door. But his hand came to grab your ankle and you let out a cry as you fell flatly on the floor. You moaned in pain, your face hitting the floor. You turned around and saw the horrible vision of his white mask staring back at you in the shadows, his hand grasping your foot as he kneeled on the floor. Your eyes dashed to the knife he held in his other hand and your heart sank inside of you.

“Fucker!” You screamed in rage as you brought your free leg towards you to strike a powerful kick in his face.

You didn’t know if he could feel pain but he grunted loudly this time and you saw his mask flying away as his head was thrown back. He huffed but still didn’t let go of your leg.

You squealed as he pulled you towards him and straddled you. You struggled under him, trying to push him away. You couldn’t see his face well in the dark, barely the lower part of it where you could see blood dripping from his bottom lip. But you could make out his massive body above you, looking like a giant even sitting on you.

“Let me go!” You gargled as his hand grabbed your throat and you started clawing at it.

His hand was clenched so tight around you that you could feel your own blood pulsing against his skin. You suffocated, pressure building in the viens under your face. You tried to pull him away but it felt like trying to remove a concrete trap around your neck. His full body weight was on you and even if you kicked your feet under him, it didn’t make him move much.

Were you going to die like that?

No, it wasn’t happening!

He threw his arm above him, the knife shining in the darkness, ready to strike.

It felt frozen in time, you could see every detail of it, the rust on the bolster, the blade shining and still, covered in dry blood. You closed your eyes tightly, readying yourself for the throw. It was so big…This was going to hurt like hell. You never got stabbed before…Was the blade going to be cold?

A million thoughts went through your head.

You waited, you waited…But nothing came. You could barely breathe anymore, his hand wrapped tightly around your neck. After a moment of hesitation, you opened your eyes in confusion. He still had his arm raised in the air but you could feel him shaking. His hand was clenching the handle tightly and you could feel that something wasn’t right.

The blood coming from his mouth was dripping on your chest and you panted, trying to understand what was going on. Why was he hesitating ? Should you take advantage of it and hit him again?

Michael suddenly groaned and pulled you towards him. Your face was now inches from his and you could feel his breath coming through his gritted teeth. Even if you couldn’t see him, you could feel him staring at you. His breathing was erratic and you felt a hint of confusion in it. His grip tightened on your throat and you gasped, your fingers still trying to pull him away as your breath got shorter.

He leaned forward and your noses brushed against each other.

What…what was going on ?

He angrily grunted and raised the knife once again above his head as if he was finally deciding to stab you. But it felt unsure, it felt like he thought it was what he was supposed to do…but realized it wasn’t what he wanted. He snarled and you shuddered as you saw him striking the knife in the floorboard next to your head.

You hiccuped, seeing your reflection in the wide blade of the knife. You could see how scared you looked. His hands looked so big compared to your face.

He let go of your throat and you inhaled sharply, gasping for air. But the relief you felt was of short notice as he immediately grabbed your hair.

“Aah! Stop, you -” You shouted but stopped as you felt his thumb pulling on your chin.

Your words got caught in your painful throat when you felt him pressing his lips against yours. Your eyes opened wide in shock.

What the…?

The metallic taste of his own blood filled your mouth and you let out a muffled whimper. This couldn’t be happening…Did he do this to all of his victims? What were you supposed  to feel ? Relieved that he wasn’t killing you…

Or wishing that you were dead?

You wanted to pull back but the grip he had on your face and hair was too strong. You felt your body temperature rising as he moved his lips, your thoughts racing like a swarm of bees inside your head. His deep breathing was the only thing you could hear through the sound of your blood pumping in your ears.

You discovered in great horror that you weren’t sure if you wanted to leave this situation or not.

He tugged your hair and the dull pain made you open your mouth slightly. That was just what he needed for his tongue to wander inside and you moaned. You shuddered under him, his hot and heavy huffs struck at your face as you tried to recollect your thoughts. The sweet and slick texture of his tongue made your head spin and you found yourself panting, stomach clenching at the sensation.

The kiss wasn’t soft, it was harsh and messy, teeth knocking together and tongues clicking, smearing blood over your faces. He pressed his lips harder against yours and you felt like he was trying to devour you. You could imagine his teeth sinking in your flesh, tongue licking the inside of your bones and claws tearing your skin apart.

You were disappearing in his embrace. You felt like your mind was an empty room with scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. 

His hand slid from your throat to your waist, fingers digging in your tender skin to pull you closer. Clueless on where to land, your hands pressed against his chest. You didn’t know if you were supposed to push or pull. His heartbeats were strong and loud to the touch, the same as yours.

Did you like this ? Or was your body reacting to a situation in hope of surviving ?

You were ashamed to admit you did answer the kiss. You couldn’t ignore his tongue, playing with yours, making your guts twist and ache for more.

Below, you noticed him rocking his hips as a bulge formed under his coveralls. Your eyes opened in an instant and quick, shallow breaths escaped your mouth. No, this wasn’t right…It couldn’t happen. You couldn’t let this go further.

He unexpectedly broke the kiss and your hot breaths mingled in the darkness. Your lips brushed against each other without making contact and you briefly got a glimpse of his scent. Dry blood, wet grass and forgotten rain. Your eyelids fluttered, trying to make out his face but you still couldn’t see it.

His hand brushed against yours, on his chest, and he grabbed the zipper of his coveralls. You heard the soft whirring sound of it as he unzipped it and the fabric under your palms loosened.

You shook your head nervously.

“N…No….” You trembled, knowing what was to come.

You looked around for something to grab, something to pull. But maybe he noticed because he let go of your hair to grab your wrists. As he clasped both your hands against the floor with one hand, you felt a new emotion, clawing its way through your insides. Your heart pounded, trying to escape your ribcage.

You wanted to kill him .

You struggled, fighting his grip. He pushed your legs with his knees to make them rest on his thighs and with his free hand he unbuttoned your pants, leaving your underwear exposed.

 As you moved your head, you saw yourself in the reflection of the knife once again. It stared back at you with shining eyes through tousled hair, blush covering her blood stained cheeks and lips.

You had never seen such a gaze in your pupils.

You noticed that his breathing slowed down, and he was back to his deep, steady breaths. You whined when he forced one of your hands towards him. Your heart skipped a beat when he made you wrap your fingers against his hard, throbbing cock. It was burning hot and rigid, but soft to the touch. You were impressed by the girth of it, as the length was also imposing but proportional to his size.

His hand squeezed yours, forcing the up and down motions as he pressed it down on your cunt. The head brushed against it through the fabric, triggering little electric shocks of pleasure. You moaned and jerked your head backwards, trying to resist his grip. You could feel yourself becoming wet and the racing of your heart didn’t help.

You wanted to kill him!

You could feel him staring at you in the dark, his breath loud and deep as he watched you struggle beneath him. You knew he enjoyed that. You felt him making you pump faster, his cock dripping in pre-cum. You couldn’t ignore the warmth emanating from your groin as the sensations increased. It felt unbearably good and even if you tried to suppress any expression on your face, you couldn’t help but moan and pant.

He leaned forward and you saw him tilting his head like he always did to watch you as he made you stroke harder his length. You could feel his breath on your face and you shamefully realized how badly you wanted him to kiss you again. The call for flesh, for friction, battled with the need to rip him apart, to stab him, to shred him to pieces. It was suffocating.

“I’ll…” You shuddered, your mouth opening in a silent gasp.

He thrusted harder in your hand, the head squeezing itself in and out of your fist.

I’ll kill you.

His face brushed against yours and he grunted as he came in your hand, his hand still clenching yours tightly. You felt his sticky and warm load dripping down your lower stomach and pooling on the floor. His head bobbed slowly as he breathed heavily, working on the last bits of his orgasm with slower thrusts.

You panted, trying to think about what to do now. Your body was still sensitive and you could feel yourself twitching as your nerves still didn’t settle down. He was unmoving and you wondered if you should take this chance to get out. His grip had considerably loosened so it might be the only moment for you to free yourself.

You could make out his head, slightly looking down. He took some kind of deep breath then let go of your hand. Your heart raced, feeling cold air touching your wrists. You glanced quickly at the knife next to you, still stuck between the floorboards.

He motioned around him and finally grabbed something. You saw the white mask appearing in your vision and he slowly brought it to his face. As you watched him putting it on again, you decided that it was the right time.

You quickly rotated your body to grab the handle. The mask clogged his vision so he didn’t react right away which allowed you to scoot away from him.

Kill him.

You raised the knife above your head but he tried to grab it. Trying to create distance between you and him, you stepped back and stumbled on the couch. You let out a small cry as you fell. You saw the knife in your hand. You didn’t see the coffee table behind you.

The back of your head hit the hard surface with a loud noise and a wave of electricity ran throughout your whole body. You tried to say something but your tongue grew numb. You heard something clinking on the ground. The knife. You couldn’t feel your hand anymore. Were you going to die? 

As your visual field started to shrink, Michael appeared in the corner of your eyes, staring at you.

You wondered what he would do with your lifeless body.

How much time until someone found you?

 

Notes:

Who lives alone in a forest anyway...

Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated <3

Chapter 5: Be killed or not be killed

Summary:

Michael loves soap

Notes:

At this point I'm just writing this fic for myself lmaoo

Chapter 5

 

   First thing you felt when you woke up was the dull pain coming from the back of your head. It radiated throughout your whole occipital lobe.
The second thing you noticed was how comfortable you were. Which shouldn’t be happening if you were dead.
Maybe you found comfort in death? Maybe heaven was made of pillows and soft blankets.

You opened your eyes.

Your vision was blurry for a second and it took you a few seconds to adjust. You were surprised to recognize your ceiling and its familiar cracks. You shut your eyes tightly and clicked your tongue, feeling it dry and big in your mouth.
Your hands brushed against the soft fabric of your own sheets. You were in your bed? You sat up and moaned in pain, pressing your hand against the back of your head. It hurt…You hit your head real bad.

The past events came back like a smack in the face and you froze. Michael Myers…The log behind the door…The knife stuck in the floorboards…
You felt a lump in your throat.

His body on yours.

His hand squeezing yours around his…

Your heart raced as you recovered your last memories. What even was that? You couldn’t describe how you felt about it. But you were even more confused about how you ended up in your bedroom. You couldn’t have gotten here on your own. Then who brought you here?

You glanced at the window. It was cloudy outside and seeing how the trees danced silently, there was a bit of wind.

Was he still here ?

Was he the one who laid you down on your bed?

But if that was the case…Why would he even do that? Why not kill you instead?

You carefully stood up, feeling your head throb. You were still fully clothed and winced in disgust when you realized you still had dry semen on your stomach. You had to take a shower to wash away all this…And maybe the considerable amount of guilt building inside of you.

You opened the door and looked around suspiciously. There was no trace of him…But you couldn’t be sure. You glanced down at the front door and felt the irresistible urge to rush outside. Trying to fight the dizziness growing in your head, you quickly walked down the stairs, already stretching your hand to grab the handle.
But what you feared happened faster than you expected. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and sent you flying in the opposite direction of the door. You yelped and landed painfully on your butt.

You groaned and huffed, raising your head to glare at Michael, standing still in front of the door. He was exactly the same as you left him but you noticed he didn’t have his knife this time.

“Let me go.” You scowlded in a dull voice.

He stared at you silently, looking somewhat tense. He didn’t budge from the door.

At first, you stayed on the floor but since he wasn’t initiating any movement, you quietly stood up. You glanced at the door then went back to him. You made a step forward.

He didn’t move.

You made another step.

You stared at him. You were close to him now but it didn’t seem to be a problem for him. The proximity made you nervous but you had to stay strong.
You slowly raised your hand towards the doorknob. He immediately grabbed your wrist and yanked it away. You shuddered and this time stepped back. So what now? He didn’t want you to leave?

“If you don’t want me to escape, kill me then.”

You stood there, trying to look as menacing as possible. You were bluffing of course, and you hoped that he couldn’t see your knees shaking. But it was a total mystery to you as to why he wanted to keep you here…alive.

You could feel his intense gaze on you through the shadows of his mask. Though he didn’t seem reactive, you couldn’t help but feel like he was…observing you. Of course, he was always staring at you and stalking you. But this time you felt that it was different. As if he was genuinely confused about you. Or something about you.

You took a step back and he matched your movement. You paused. You took a side step and he did the same. Okay, got it.

He didn’t want you to leave.

You stared at him carefully. You didn’t know what he was thinking or what he wanted. You felt like a small animal in a circus cage with the lion circling around you, wondering what your meat might taste like.

He wasn’t killing you, he wasn’t letting you go…Then what did he want?

You failed to understand the logic behind it. It was well known that anyone who crossed his path, didn’t live long enough to tell the tale. Then what was different about you? Was he keeping you for later? Kill you when he felt more like it?

A shiver ran down your spine. You had to get out of here, one way or another.
Kill him.

Your own thoughts echoed deep inside your brain. It was faint but it was like a constant background noise. You didn’t want to listen to it. There was necessarily another way.

You turned around, making your way to the kitchen. You felt nervous just turning your back on him but you had to act like you weren’t scared of him. Maybe if he got bored of playing with you he would eventually leave.

You could spot the back door from the living room so you knew that he would be able to see if you tried to leave from there. Plus, you were pretty sure the log was still against it. You walked calmly to not alert him and just when you were disappearing from his view, you grabbed the telephone handset on the wall.

Maybe if you had a bit of time you could call the pol-

You were cut in your own thoughts when Michael slammed his hand on the wall, just next to your head. Obviously, you didn’t hear him following you again. A scream got caught in your throat and you clutched the handset tightly. He framed you with his body and you could feel the heat emanating from him. You glanced at his now clenched fist on the wall and exhaled shakily.

That was clear too.

No call for help.

“I-I have to call the place where I work. If you’re going to keep me here, I have to tell them I’m sick or something.” You shivered, your finger hovering above the buttons.

He stared at you, breathing deeply. You were creeped out by the powerful killing urge emanating from him. It was strong, like the smell of something burning. And you had a gut feeling at this moment that your life was only hanging by a thread.

He desperately had the need to kill you.

But against all odds, he seemed to restrain it and slowly, almost painfully, he removed his fist which came to rest on his sides.

You inhaled sharply, realizing that you stopped breathing. It was going to be so hard to act like you weren’t scared. He was terrifying.

You dialled your hospital sector’s number and warned them that you were sick and weren’t able to go to work. They allowed you a few days to rest and you thanked them, hoping they might notice something was wrong. Michael was listening next to you all along and seemed satisfied with what you told them since he didn’t try to actually break the phone.

As you hanged up you immediately regretted that last thought.

He took the handset from your hands and crushed it on its base, breaking it entirely as it clattered on the floor. You stared at your broken phone in dismay, seeing your chances to escape slowly getting thinner. At this rate, you’ll be totally isolated from the rest of the world.

Stuck in your own house with serial killer Michael Myers.

You sighed and stared at him. He tilted his head on the side -probably expecting from you a scream or maybe some insults-

“So no phone either, huh?” You muttered, running your hand through your hair.

Maybe it was the first time you actually saw him answer but he made some kind of slight nod. So he did understand you and just chose to ignore your questions. You felt even more enraged than before.

“What do you want from me?”

He owed you an answer. No leaving, no killing, no talking…If you were going to stay alive you had to know. You still didn’t have any answer about what happened last night as well…You blushed slightly at your own memory.

Michael…didn’t seem able -or willing- to answer. He stared at you for a while, standing tall and still in front of you, his hands twitching against his sides. He looked so big next to you. A slight movement of the mask informed you that he frowned or squinted his eyes. He looked somewhat puzzled despite you not being able to see his face. Was he actually as confused as you?

He abruptly turned around and made his way to the living room. You blinked in surprise, standing alone in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by what was left of your phone.

Was it his way to avoid the conversation?

You were about to follow him when your foot hit something on the floor which slid on the ceramic tiles with a metallic noise. You looked down and noticed your scalpel from yesterday’s night. Your heart raced and you quickly picked it up before shoving it in the leg pocket of your cargo pants. This was your chance. When he wasn’t paying attention you would be able to stab him and escape. You knew where to strike to make it either very painful or kill him quickly. You just had to wait…for the right time.

You looked around nervously, hoping that he didn’t see you take it. You carefully walked out of the kitchen and saw him standing once again in front of the front door. He didn’t seem to have noticed anything and stared at you all the way to the stairs.

"I'm, um...I'm going to take a shower." You said as you gripped the handrail.

You didn't know why you felt the need to justify yourself but you hoped that he would stop following you if you told him that. As you went up the stairs, you glanced in his direction and saw he wasn't moving.

Great.

You closed the bathroom’s door behind you and locked it. You looked around for a bit and put the scalpel on the side of the sink. You had to find it a hiding place.

But first, a shower was greatly needed.

You undressed and let the water warm up. As steam filled the room you looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked...not as terrible as you thought. Maybe being knocked out allowed you to get the best beauty sleep you could hope for. Your gaze looked haunted but it was strong. A light flush colored your cheeks and your eyes shined with something unknown.

It almost seemed like you were...gloating.

You glanced at your hand holding the scalpel tightly. You didn't even notice that you took it. You nervously dropped it and it clinked on the hard surface of the sink. What was wrong with you?

You shook your head to brush this weird feeling off and took off your underwear. You stepped in the bathtub and hummed as warm water streamed down your body.

It was comforting to not have him around in the room. You still didn't know how you should react to him. It was a weird situation to be in. You didn't know if instead of taking it calmly, you shouldn't be screaming, crying and begging for help. He wasn't actively trying to murder you...but what was he doing, then?

It was strange that after trying to kill you, he decided to have sex with you and take care of you after you knocked yourself unconscious. But you were pretty sure that he was as confused as you about the current situation.

Though you weren't going to let your guard down.

The presence of the scalpel reassured you.

You had to play along and act as if you accepted your fate.

And then you would kill him.

You felt uncomfortable having to come to this but it was him or you. You still didn't know what he was going to do with you. Or if he had any sort of feelings for you…

You sighed and applied soap all over your body, taking care to clean your stomach well. You were playing with the bubbles on your hands when your eyes caught a glimpse of something moving under the door. You frowned and pulled the shower curtains. You could distinctly see the shadow of someone standing in front of the bathroom’s door. You had no doubt about who was behind it.

The fact that he followed you everywhere unnerved you. Fortunately you had locks on almost every door so you could stay alone for a little longer. If he counted on staying here while holding you captive, it might be a solution for you to not totally go insane.

You shuddered when the doorknob rattled. It was eager, the knob turning in every direction. Your heart raced, you knew he couldn’t get in because of the lock but you were still nervous.

Not taking the time to turn off the faucet, you wrapped a towel around your body and got out of the bathtub, your hair still wet. Your eyes darted to the scalpel on the side of the sink and you hastily wrapped it in a small towel.

“Just a sec- “ You didn’t have time to finish your sentence, when you heard a loud thud against the door.

You gasped and shoved the scalpel in a drawer just as the bolt broke open. The door flung open and you let out a scream as Michael appeared among the steam, putting his foot back on the floor. Two kicks were enough for him to open the door.

You couldn’t help this time but stare at him in horror as he stepped in.

No locked doors, you thought.

He tilted his head on the side as he saw you. You gripped the towel around you tighter. Your cheeks flushed red and you tried to stand your ground.

“I’m not dressed. Please, leave.” You said, trying to hide the quiver in your voice.

You took a quick glance at the drawer with the scalpel. Should you take it out now? Or wait for a better time?

Michael stared at you intensely and you couldn’t tell if he was mad that you locked the door or if he was merely showing you what would happen if you did that again. He kind of raised his head and bobbed it a few times. At first you were confused, but then through the noise of running water in the background, you heard him inhaling under his mask.

Was he…smelling the air?

He got closer and you couldn’t help but flinch. He titled his head on the side silently and leaned forward. You felt frozen into place, feeling unbearably vulnerable. You heard him sniffing quietly the space above your shoulder and had the sensation of having a grizzli bear standing in front of you. All of a sudden, his massive hands came to grab your back and waist and you yelped as he pulled you against him.

He felt hot against your bare skin even through the coveralls. You only had your simple towel separating your naked body from him and your heart pounded hard in your chest in reaction. His large palms warmed your back and somehow feeling your skin against his, sent shivers down your spine.

He leaned in and when his mask almost touched the crook of your neck, you heard him inhaling deeply. Was he smelling the soap you used? You felt like every hair on your body just stood up and you whimpered, his grip tightening on your waist.

“It’s vine peach soap…” You managed to articulate, unsure about what you should say in this situation.

It was oddly…not unpleasant. Maybe because you were slightly cold with the door open and your body still wet and he was warm like the sun. But the adrenaline pumping in your veins, warning you of a potential danger, sent contradictory feelings to your mind. You weren’t sure what you should do. Should you push him away? Or do as you said earlier and act like it didn’t bother you?

Michael removed the hand holding your back and cold air penetrated the skin where it was resting. He pulled on his mask, uncovering the lower part of his face. He had a square jaw and old scars around his lips. You couldn’t really tell why or how since you never actually saw his face, but it somehow didn’t make him look monstrous in any way.

You didn’t have the time to observe more of it. He lowered his face and as he squeezed you against him, you felt the slick texture of his tongue licking the skin of your collarbones. You shuddered and tried to push him away but his other hand grabbed the back of your neck to keep you into place. Your pleading eyes tried to find his but only two dark holes stared back at you, with something shining at the bottom of it.

He inhaled the fruity perfume emanating from you once again before licking and sucking at the sensitive skin. Your body twitched under his touch and you shuddered each time you felt his teeth near you. This strange hug was suffocating.

There was nothing human in this embrace. There was no kiss when his lips met you, no feeling in the hands that held you. You were like a bone between the jaws of a dog. Something to play with.

And yet.

Each time you felt his tongue tracing lines on your neck, it sent little sparks of electricity throughout your body, which came to die in your fingertips. You could almost taste it: the tension emanating from him. It was dull, like low vibrations.

There was a real duality in the way he acted with you, from violent to almost tender…or at least intimate. You wondered if this tension was him not knowing where to stand, hesitating between killing you and holding you, almost needily.

Maybe he couldn’t actually tell the difference.

His teeth came to bite your neck and a moan escaped your lips. Your eyes, that were shut tightly until then, opened wide. You couldn’t believe you made such a noise. Not right now, not with him.

You pressed your hands against his chest and pushed him as hard as you could. Maybe surprised by your reaction, he actually stepped back, pulling his mask back on his face. He stared at you almost confusedly, tilting his head on the side.

What? Don’t act surprised! You really think I was going to enjoy that? You thought, glaring at him.

“Stop that!” You shouted, pulling the towel that was starting to fall, back on your breasts, “I don’t want you to touch me!”

For a split second you thought that he was going to punch you. He was a serial killer after all. But you planted a glare with such hate, such confusion in it, that he seemed equally surprised. He stood there, dark stains on his coveralls where your wet hair and skin touched him.

“If you’re not gonna kill me and keep me here, you’ll have to accept that I don’t want to be touched…like that.” You added in a lower tone. You could still feel heat radiating from your neck.

He stayed silent -as expected- but you heard him breathing heavily. You could feel that it wasn’t much about the fact that you told him to stop, but rather because you were defying him on purpose. He looked like a dog who just saw its squeaky toy suddenly gain consciousness.

Though you held his gaze, you were utterly terrified of his next move. The fact that he wasn’t talking made it worse. You prayed that the light attachment he had for you, would be enough for him to reconsider killing you.

“So…” You swallowed with difficulty, trying to find the right words, “So if you want to touch me again…You’ll have to leave me alone.”

You exhaled shakily, trying to decipher anything -anything!- on this god awful mask. But he just stood there, still as a rock. You were bluffing once again of course. If he wanted to do anything to you, you would be unable to stop him.

You saw his fists clenching on his sides and you immediately felt the tension rising in the room.

It happened in the split of a second.

Michael grabbed your throat and slammed you against the wall.

You didn't even get to scream. Your skull hit the hard surface of your ceramic tiles, reviving the pain of your last fall. You winced as it radiated through your head.

He didn't like that at all.

His fingers twitched on your neck, squeezing you harder. You opened your mouth and a muted cry escaped your lips. You couldn't breath.

You grabbed his wrist and tried to pull it in different directions in hope to loosen the grip. Michael stared at you intensely and through the mist of the hot water still running, you caught a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes.

It was like you could read the word “kill” over and over again passing in front of his iris.

Your stomach dropped in your chest.

You could feel through his fingertips the anger emanating from him.

You wrongfully thought for a moment that he could be docile, that you could coax him since you apparently were the only one he kept alive. But you forgot how violent he could get.

Maybe this was it. Maybe he was going to kill you right here.

You glanced at the drawer with your scalpel in it. But it was out of reach. You were starting to see black dots in front of your eyes and it was a matter of seconds before you passed out.

Or died…

Michael leaned forward and seemed to observe you slowly suffocating in his hand. You were starting to drool on his hand as spit built up inside your mouth.

It was infuriating how you could feel that he enjoyed seeing you like that.

You tried to kick your feet, to dig your nails in his arm but he wouldn't budge.

Just when you didn't have the strength to raise your arms anymore, he let go of your throat. He jerked his hand away from you, as if it took him a lot of will to actually let you go.

You couldn't stand up anymore and you fell on the ground, coughing and gasping for air. Breathing burned your throat and tears pooled at the corner of your eyes.

Michael stared at you, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he stared down at you panting on the floor.

This was a warning.

He couldn't bring himself to kill you somehow… but if you tried to defy him, his killing instinct kicked in and you would regret it.

You could feel that it frustrated him to not actually reach the point of killing you. It leaked through his skin, it was almost tangible.

Your shaking hand brushed against your neck and this simple contact made you whine in pain.

When you mustered the courage to look at him, your eyes met. You didn't know what you were supposed to read in them. Or if you really wanted to know at all.
But what was all this for? What were you supposed to do? Your eyes implored, begging for answers. But he suddenly turned around and exited the room.

You allowed yourself to let out a strangled cry, each breath burning the inside of your throat. The tiles were cold under your bare body.

---

 

You sat on the couch of your living room, your hands clasped against your thighs. After the bathroom incident, it took you a while to get a grip on yourself, but you managed to get dressed and handle having him in the room with you.

You decided to stay in the living room because it was the most spacious room you had and you wanted to create as much distance as you could with him. Your neck still hurt and you were pretty sure that bruises were starting to appear at the surface of your skin.

But despite this and despite everything that happened…you couldn't let yourself be scared.

You were boiling inside.

You knew you had close to no chance if you attacked him. The fact that he could handle you with one hand only was proof enough. You kept thinking about your scalpel but the more you thought about it, the more it seemed useless to you.

But what option did you have left?

Fighting back and risking your life -more than you were already risking it- was for now, out of the question. You might be able to if he was wounded again somehow but otherwise you were no match against him.

Hide was also useless, he followed you everywhere you went.

You glanced in his direction.

He was leaning against the doorframe of the front door, still as a rock. If you focused enough, you could faintly hear his deep breathing. He was staring at you silently and you couldn't help but give him a furious glare. He had his knife resting on the heater next to him.

What now, Michael? What were we supposed to do now?

It was dinner time and you were far from hungry. Half an hour had passed since you sat here and none of you had moved.

You wondered if you would rather be dead.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was the only noise in your house.

Tick-tock…tick-tock

The clock hands seem to be going slower by the minutes. If you weren't in a dangerous situation you would be unbearably bored. But your brain was going miles an hour and you weren't going to rest until you found a solution.

Fifteen minutes passed. You heard Michael sighing lightly in his corner which caught your attention.

It was a different noise from the usual creepy breathing. In your peripheral vision, you saw him crossing his arms and adjusting his posture against the wall.

You squinted your eyes thoughtfully.

If you weren't in a dangerous situation you would be unbearably bored

You thought about your own words. Michael seemed to be the kind of killer to enjoy stalking his victims when they were totally oblivious. But in this case, it wasn't staking because you were aware of his presence…which might be boring to him.

Something ticked inside your mind.

You stood up and he suspiciously stared at you. You turned up the heating and sat back down to your original position.

Tick-tock…. Tick-tock…

---

 

The hands of the clock seemed glued to the white dial. It was very difficult for you to stay in the same position but you tried to hold on.

After what seemed an eternity, you finally caught a glimpse of what you were hoping for.

Michael was still in his corner and seemed to be battling with a sudden need to sleep. His head bobbed from time to time above his crossed arms, as his breathing deepened.

Your heart raced inside your chest. The cozy heat mixed with hunger and his wounds still healing was the perfect cocktail to feel sleepy. Add to that a slight boredom and he was surely going to fall asleep.

You were starting to feel your muscles ache from the lack of movement. But you knew it was worth it.

After what felt like an infinite time, his head finally stopped moving and rested on his chest. You waited a little more just to be sure then finally stood up silently.

You listened to the faint snoring coming from under his mask and circled around your couch.

He didn't move an inch. He was definitely asleep.

Your heart was beating so hard that you were afraid he might hear it. It was making you almost dizzy as blood rushed in your ears. You tiptoed to the kitchen, avoiding any floorboard that might creak, and glanced at the open window. You didn't want to dare open the backdoor as you were pretty sure the log was still there.

Your hands were sweaty and your legs wobbly. If he saw you, you didn't want to know what he was going to do to you.

But you had your third option.

Running away.

You checked one last time if he had woken up and seeing that he had not moved, you stepped over the window frame.

Notes:

Thank you to the people still reading!
I'd like to mention that it's taking place in the 80s...so no smartphone and no computer

Chapter 6: Night of the hunter

Summary:

Michael loves playing hide and seek

Chapitre 6

   Feeling the cold and damp air of the forest on your face made you almost tear up. Your feet sank in the wet leaves and muddy soil as you ran among the trees.

It was so dark in the forest that you could barely see in front of you. The moon lightly illuminated your path but you couldn't slow down. You had to distance yourself as much as you could from him.

The forest was big and stretched for several kilometers. You took walks there daily but it was different at night. Everything seemed unfamiliar. You weren't sure you were following the trail anymore. In any case, the farthest you went, the better.

You turned around mid run to check behind you. You could faintly see your house behind the trees, getting smaller by the seconds. Your throat burned from the constant running and Michael's “warning” earlier didn't help. But you smiled faintly despite the pain, finally seeing a light of hope in your despair.

Once you were at a safe distance, you could find help. If you managed to reach Haddonfield the police would surely help you and it would be over. It wasn’t that far if you ran long enough and you prayed that the adrenaline wouldn’t wear off too soon.

You ducked when a branch appeared in your visual field. That was close.

The storm had broken a lot of trees and it was difficult for you to avoid all the debris. It might not have been the best time to run away in a forest but you didn't really choose the timing.

You wished you fought for your life instead of running away to survive. But Michael didn't leave you a choice and maybe, if you crossed path with him again…you would be stronger.

You looked back one last time and just as you were about to turn back, you caught a glimpse of something moving. It was like a shadow, and you almost missed it. But you clearly saw a tall shape making its way through the trees.

All color drained from your cheeks and you almost hit your head against another branch on your way.

No…he couldn't be already on your tracks…

“Fuck…” you whispered, jumping over a rotting log.

You pushed your body above its limits and sped up the pace. You knew that it was him. You felt it inside.

You pushed bushes away and grunted when thorns came to sting your legs. You could hear crows cawing in the distance as they flew away, disturbed by something unknown.

You were starting to panic. You thought you would have enough time ahead of you before he realized that you were gone. But considering the short distance that was separating you from him -if that was him- it was as if he immediately started following you when you were out of the house.

It couldn't be that…

You were surprised by a steep slope and you yelped, tripping on the damp mud. You tried to control your speed, hoping that you wouldn't fall. 

But you staggered forward and before you could do anything, you fell on your side. You rolled down what was left of the slope in the dirt and leaves before a tree stopped your fall. You let out a grunt when the hard surface of the trunk hit your ribs.

You coughed a few times, dirty hair and mud covering your vision. Your sides hurt and you painfully moaned when you rolled over to get on your elbows. You panted, desperately trying to catch your breath.

You had cuts all over your arms. You noticed your hands shaking. Because of the fall, because of the cold, the fear and exhaustion. You gritted your teeth, feeling unbearably weak.

“I can't stop now.” You thought, getting back on your wobbly legs, “I can't let him get me .”

You heard the distinct sound of twigs snapping somewhere not too far from you and you immediately ducked by instinct.

Someone was here.

Ignoring your body telling you to rest, you hid in a hole behind a rotten tree trunk as silently as you could. You waited, your own heartbeats echoing in your ears.

Should you take something to defend yourself? You glanced at a log shaped like a baseball bat near you and considered it.

You tried to focus on the nearby sounds. You only heard the soft whisper of the leaves in the wind and the faraway sound of mammals and birds hiding in the forest. But soon, you noticed the quiet sound of crunched leaves under footsteps. It was undeniable.

You pressed your body against the dirt and tried to peek through the roots of the trunk.

At first you saw nothing. But then, when you looked up the hill you just fell from, you saw the familiar shape of your captor.

Your heart raced when he appeared and you instinctively curled up on yourself.

Michael looked around silently, a knife in his hand. You were relieved to see that with the lack of light, no one could see the trail you left during your fall. And even if he was standing right above you, he didn't seem to notice anything.

You could hear his steady breathing and it sent shivers down your spine.

How could he be already there?

Your mind was swirling in confusion. You saw it yourself, you saw him falling asleep! He couldn't have known. And with the boredom it was…

You stopped mid-thought and froze. He did seem bored. He was a stalker with no one to stalk.

You stared at him as he turned around and chose another way. He looked calm. Really calm. Didn't look like someone who just lost the object of his obsession.

You slowly stood up, your eyes fixed on where he was a second ago.

He knew.

He knew that you were trying to escape.

He voluntarily let you go so he could have a bit of amusement.

A much more interesting hunt.

Your stomach started making knots and you felt the urge to scream. This was the second time that he showed you he wasn't just a brainless killer looking for a victim. And you ignored the signs.

Your fists curled up in anger and sweat rolled down your temples despite the cold. You were just a toy that he was playing with. This was so frustrating. You felt like you were stuck in a loophole. A little wooden toy on a carousel, doomed to run around in a circle, unaware of the iron rode keeping it into place.

You stepped back and reached backward to lay against a tree before your legs gave out. But your hands touched the soft fabric of a jacket instead. You shuddered and just when you were about to turn around, someone clasped their hand on your mouth. You let out a muffled scream and tried to fight but they wrapped their other hand around you, preventing any movement.

“Lost, lady?” A masculine voice said in your ear.

You muffled an answer but he squeezed you even harder. This wasn’t Michael Myers. You managed to turn your head enough to see a man you had never seen before. He had brown hair and looked like a hunter with his sleeveless camo jacket and shotgun strapped to his back. You were so relieved.

Finally! Someone that could help.

You didn’t understand why he was restraining you and tried to explain to him the situation. As you shook your shoulders and tried to remove his hand from your mouth he shushed you.

“Hey, if I remove my hand, you must promise me not to scream, alright lady?”

You nodded quietly. He finally released you and you gasped for air.

“You have to help me. I’m being followed and in grave danger, please you must bring me to Haddonfield.” You immediately said, imploring with your eyes.

You thought that he was going to be surprised and reassure you but he seemed…oddly amused. He leaned back and grabbed his shotgun which made you instinctively flinch. You glanced at the barrel of his weapon then slowly raised your gaze to stare at him questioningly.

“I…We have to get out of this forest.”

His eyebrows rose as if the words “of course” popped in his mind. You made another step back and he stepped forward.

“‘Followed’ you say…” He muttered thoughtfully, ignoring your request, “By who?”

You swallowed and as your eyes darted to the shotgun once more,  you stepped back. There was something wrong. You didn’t like how calm he looked. He must have noticed how dirty you looked, the wounds and bruises on your body. He didn’t ask any questions about it. And he didn’t seem to mind finding someone in a forest alone at night.

“Michael Myers…” You answered, your words trailing off as you saw him approaching you.

His eyes lit up and a weird smile illuminated his face.

“Well…” He said, “If I knew that I was going to fall on the perfect bait…This hunt is going to be simpler than I thought.”

Your heart jumped in your chest and before you could say anything, he hit you in the face with the stock of his rifle. Your head was thrown back as a metallic taste filled your mouth. Pain radiated from your jaw to the rest of your head and you groaned, falling on the ground.

You were momentarily stunned and you struggled to recover your senses. Blinded by the pain, you felt him wrapping a rope around your hands. You could barely hear anything aside from the ringing in your ears but his voice went through.

“See, there is a big reward for whoever kill or catch this fucker and bring him back to Haddonfield. I’ve been following his tracks for days but he somehow manages to vanish when I’m close to him.”

You moaned, trying to focus your gaze on him. What was he even saying? Tracking Michael Myers? Didn’t he mention you being some kind of bait?

You felt blood falling down your busted lip. It felt hot against your cold skin.

“...He doesn’t really take prisoners so this must mean that he is after you and probably eager to find and kill you.” He said happily, putting you in a sitting position against a tree, “I’m just making it easier for him. I’ll hide while you stay right here.”

He chuckled and finished by tying you up to the tree. Once done, he cleaned his hands on his pants. Dizzy, you confusedly stared at him.

You thought that Michael Myers was a monster among men…But he was just another man.

And even worse than that, you found yourself hoping that he found you. Somehow, you felt like you would be safer with him. But you might be simply delirious from the pain.

You wanted to laugh. This was unfair and yet…Running away from a killer to fall into the hands of a greedy man with no sense of morality…That was laughable. 

“Let me go…” You managed to say, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

He stared at you with fake pity and shook his head.

“Don’t take this personally. But you were dead anyway, you know. He isn’t really the merciful kind.”

He stood up and grabbed his shotgun. You tried to move your hands but the rope was tight and you didn’t know if you had the strength to fight anymore. You sighed and licked the blood on your lips. So this was it. Well, you were really unlucky.

Though you were giving up, the anger still had not died in your heart.

You wanted him dead too.

Your head spinned and you weren’t sure anymore of what you were saying. Was it normal to think that? The hunter noticed your emotionless stare as he was about to turn around and raised an eyebrow.

“Giving up already? If you could make a little noise that would be great, you know…That would make you easier to find.”

You shrugged and tried to loosen the knot but were unsuccessful. You were getting less dizzy and you noticed that he didn’t seem to enjoy your deadpan expression. He squinted his eyes suspiciously as you clicked your tongue, still tasting blood.

“I’ve seen people be more concerned about their upcoming death.” He said.

You raised your gaze, about to retort something, and your whole body stiffened. Unaware of your sudden shift in attitude, the hunter shook his head.

“Well…You do as you please. I have someone to track.”

As he put his rifle back on his back, you stared at Michael standing just behind him. He was towering him with his height and you wondered once again how such a big man could be so silent.

He lowered his head to stare at him ominously, then turned it in your direction. You could feel Michael’s eyes fixed on you and your heart began to race. It was so intense and yet, you couldn’t define how you felt about it.

Should you be relieved? He might choose to kill both of you in this forest, right here, right now, though.

The hunter finally turned around and finding himself unexpectedly face to face with Michael’s chest, he hiccuped.

He didn’t have time to raise his head, the serial killer instantly grabbed his jaw and hammered his head against a nearby tree. The man emitted a weak gargle as his blood splattered on the dark bark. You heard a disgusting crunching sound which pursued when he lifted him. His feet didn’t touch the ground anymore.

He weirdly dangled at the end of his arm, as he was holding his jaw and not his neck, like a broken porcelain doll. Michael stared at him as he struggled under his grip, hands grabbing what they could. He kind of gurgled, unable to open his mouth, blood from his open head falling in his eyes. Michael tilted his head on the side, looking fascinated.

“Ler…merr groo…” the man managed to let out, hitting his arm with his hand -which wasn’t doing much-

Michael slowly turned his head in your direction, paused, then went back to staring at him. The message was almost clear.

Not after what you did .

You could somehow feel that he was really pissed. Maybe it was the bulging vein on the side of his neck or the way he crushed this man’s face in his hand, but he looked angry. You didn’t know why though, as it wasn’t directed towards you.

Maybe he didn’t like that someone else played with his toy.

In a last attempt to survive, the man took out a hunting knife from his pocket and cut Michael’s arm. He didn’t even flinch and immediately made him drop it by hitting the top of his hand with the handle of his own knife. Then, taking a deep breath, he approached the knife and slid it down the man’s belly before stabbing him with one swift movement of the hand.

His whole body shuddered and a painful moan escaped his lips. Michael pushed his weapon deeper, leaning forward to watch him suffer, you guessed.

You realized you didn’t feel anything at that moment.

You didn’t feel any sadness for this man or any empathy.

You just…watched.

Blood poured out of the wound like a scarlet river. You watched as all color drained from the man’s cheeks and his movements started lacking accuracy. After a while, he stopped moving and Michael tilted his head on the other side, satisfied.

He removed the knife and threw the body on the ground like a bag of trash, not paying it any more attention.

He turned towards you and stood there for a second. You couldn’t believe what you just witnessed and at the same time were totally unfazed by it.

You were going to die anyway. He wouldn’t let you live after that.

He finally made his way to you and kneeled to reach your height. Your breath shortened, seeing him so close to you again. You couldn’t see his eyes well in the dark and couldn’t decipher anything, but the knife he still held in his right hand made you nervous.

You flinched when he approached his left hand but he simply lifted your chin. He seemed to stare at you for a moment before brushing his thumb against your busted lip, removing some blood. This was such a weird gesture for him. It was so tender. You felt almost compelled to lean into it but refrained at the last second. Goosebumps formed at the surface of your skin.

“I can’t escape you, can I?” You murmured, fixing your gaze in his.

Michael tilted his head on the side then ever so slowly you almost missed it…he shook his head.

You scoffed.

He chose his timing to actually communicate with you.

You raised your head and caught a glimpse of the pale moonlight through the leaves. 

So what, now?

 

---

 

You grunted.

“I can walk, you know?”

For an answer, Michael repositioned you better on his shoulder. You sighed, blowing a lock of hair away from your face.

What a dickhead.

 After cutting the rope tying you to a tree, he didn’t wait and threw you over his shoulder. You tried to argue, and fight his grip but after struggling for a while, you eventually gave up. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to let you go. And maybe even less now that you tried to escape.

You knew he didn’t cut the rope wrapped around your hands on purpose.

You took a deep breath and wiggled to look behind you. He was walking you back to your house, you were sure of it. You could actually see it appearing through the trees. You wondered what he was going to do to you once there.

You still didn’t understand his motives, or why he desperately wanted to keep you alive. You felt like he was also trying to understand why he wasn’t killing you. Maybe it was in the way he stared at you. You weren’t that scared of being killed -by him- anymore, yet you still apprehended his reactions. 

You glanced in his direction. He was looking straight ahead, walking with confidence. No…Not confidence. He rather seemed to walk with eagerness.

A chill ran down your spine as you wondered why he would be so impatient to get you home.

When the number of trees decreased and you started witnessing grass instead of humus, you figured that you had arrived. As he was holding you by the waist and you were facing the opposite direction you couldn’t really be sure, but when you heard the familiar sound of your door creaking, this was confirmed to you.

“Okay, you can let me go now, please?” You inquired, wiggling and kicking your feet.

Michael, as usual, didn’t answer nor did he put you down. His grip was firm and he glanced at you which made you instantly stop moving. You didn’t like how tense his hand felt against you. He was hiding something. Or at least, he had something in mind for you…for trying to escape.

 He closed the door and made his way to the guest bedroom, the floor protesting under both his enormous weight and yours. You yelped when he suddenly threw you on the bed without warning. You groaned and turned around to face him. He stood there, staring at you.

You could feel some kind of tension rising in the air and you didn’t like it. Why did he throw you on the bed?

“You knew it.” You said, fixing your gaze in the two holes of his masks, “You knew I was going to try to escape. You let me go on purpose.”

He tilted his head on the side and despite the mask…you felt him smirking. Maybe it was a slight shift of the plastic around the mouth but you knew that he was glad you noticed. You squinted your eyes suspiciously and sat up. Your heart was starting to race again.

He could have chosen any room to drop you and yet, he chose a bedroom.

“Can you remove the ropes on my hands as well?” You asked, stretching your arms in front of him.

He looked down at your hands and paused. You swallowed with difficulty as you hoped it wouldn’t trigger a new fit of violence. He seemed to be waiting for something.

He grabbed the ropes. You thought he was going to cut them but instead, he yanked it and you let out a small squeal when you were propelled forward. You bumped into his chest and found yourself face to face with him.

“I..um…”

You anxiously looked at his hand grabbing your tied hands, your heart knocking hard against your ribcage. You raised your gaze and met his eyes, in the dark shadow of his mask. They were so intense, yet calm, his only valid pupil staring at you intently. There was something shining at the bottom of it, something eager, something evil.

He put his knife on the bedside table and with his now free hand, he raised the bottom of his mask. Using the rope to pull you closer, he pressed his lips against you and you moaned. Your cold skin met his burning lips which sent shivers down your spine. Your eyelids fluttered, your body enjoying the sudden warmth emanating from him.

He seemed…happy to have you back, you thought. You feared that he had prepared some kind of sanction for you, but it appeared he merely enjoyed your return.

In a lucid moment, you tried to pull back but he firmly brought you back with the ropes. You whimpered when his tongue ventured in but you were unable to stop him.

You could feel every nerve, every muscle in his body, tensed to the max. Like it was never able to rest, and animated by the sole purpose of his impulses.

He licked the dry blood off your bottom lip which sent small sparks of electricity down your waist. What about him, you wondered, made your body react in such a way? Maybe the duality of his actions -once violent and once tender- had your mind in shambles, feeling things that weren't there to begin with.

You found yourself trying to pull him closer as well, but the grip he had on your ropes made it difficult for you to do anything.

Noticing your struggle, Michael took back his knife. Relieved, you thought that he was finally going to cut them. But instead, had the strangest gesture.

He tapped lightly on your tied hands with it before shoving it in his back pocket. You frowned, but before you could ask anything, he suddenly forced you down with the ropes.

You kneeled down and raised a questioning gaze. You saw him zipping down his coveralls and it all became clear to you.

“I'm…I'm not doing that.” You blurted out.

He stopped halfway, stared at you, before finishing zipping it down. You felt the ghost of his smile once more.

Oh but you will.

You almost heard his voice in your mind. You clenched your hands tightly and looked away. So this was the “punishment” he had for you. 

What a fucking animal.

At least he wasn't going to hurt you. But what a sick deal this was.

To get the ropes off you had to get the knife yourself. And for that, you had to…

You watched him as he pulled aside the fabric of his coveralls to expose his boxers. There was still blood on his legs which caught your attention. But your eyes were called by something else.

You stared at the bulge forming under his underwear with silent apprehension. 

It was big, up close like that, and the fabric was so stretched that you could make out the phallic shape of it. You stared at Michael who breathed deeply under his mask.

His hand came to grab your chin, somehow encouraging, and your cheeks flushed red. He seemed to stare at you with satisfaction, knelt in front of him with your hands tied. Your face felt hot now and you hated yourself for that.

What were you going to do now? 

Your eyebrows knitted together in an annoyed expression as your eyes shifted to the knife you could spot behind him.

There was no way you could do it. You had no feeling for him but hate and resentment.

He pulled his boxer down and his erection bobbed free. Your heart jumped in your chest and you instinctively closed your mouth. But Michael forced it open and you let out a groan of protest.

He approached the tip and put it on the flat of your tongue. Glaring at him, you finally wrapped your lips around it and he sighed in contentment, his gaze fixed on you.

It was big but as you observed before, it was proportionate to his size. It curved upright nicely, with prominent veins and a smooth round head. Though you couldn’t help it, your mouth watered at the sight of it. 

Alright, you knew he wouldn't leave you alone until you did it, so better get on with it.

You dragged your tongue on the tip, turning around it before making sure to wet the entire length. It was so hard against your skin, you could feel the blood rushing under the tip of your tongue.

 You actually felt aroused against your will and reajusted yourself on your knees. That was embarrassing. But even though you tried to repress it, there was something igniting at the bottom of your stomach.

You switched between prodding the tip with your tongue and enclosing your lips around it to suck. The more you worked his shaft, the more you noticed the change in his breathing. It echoed under his mask as you saw his chest rising higher.

You stared up at him, letting his cock glide deeper inside your mouth. Maybe it triggered something in him, but the hand on your chin twitched. His eyes were fixed on you.

You were mortified but at the same time, hints of pride settled in your mind, seeing how his body reacted to you.

He finally slid his hand along your jaw and face to rest it behind your head. It was now entangled in your hair, pressing and pulling at your scalp. You moaned slightly when he pushed his dick up into your mouth and you saw him nodding slightly, enjoying the noises.

It was the first time you actually heard his voice -or at least a semblance of it- when he let out a breathy growl, leaning into the sensation of him deep in your throat. His hips trembled as a sweet tension started building in his guts. 

He has a deep voice, you thought.

You could taste how salty his pre-cum oozing on the back of your tongue was. Your heart pounded inside your chest, making you feel dizzy and you tried to pull your mouth away, in need of air.

Michael, feeling the sudden lack of contact, groaned slightly and tightened his grip on your hair to push you closer. A heated moan escaped your lips which instantly made him thrust in your mouth. 

You realized how much he needed and enjoyed the noises you made, feeling him harden on your tongue.

Breathing through your nose, you tried to control his back and forth by closing the back of your throat, which only granted him more friction.

You couldn't escape his grip, his hand keeping you into place, as he face-fucked you mercilessly.

You tried to ignore the tingle in your lower parts, begging for contact. You were forced into this, you couldn't possibly like it. But it was getting harder to suppress the uncontrollable moans coming from you.

You could see slobs of saliva coating the entirety of his length each time he thrusted out. It was filthy, it was wrong…But the song of his own grunts and moans somehow pleased you.

His breathing was ragged, erratic and the slight twitch you felt on your tongue told you that he was close.

You looked up once again, frowning slightly as he was hurting the back of your throat. Tears peaked at the corner of your eyes as you tried not to gag. You wished it was from disgust, but it was only a mechanical reaction your body had from deep-throating too much.

What a dickhead , you thought again, not really thinking your words through.

But seeing your resentful expression, Michael pulled on your hair which drew a terribly dirty moan from your lips. 

You couldn't believe you just made that noise.

Your eyes opened wide in embarrassment. Michael, on the other hand, let out a throaty groan as he came in your mouth, forcing you deeper around his dick and using the head of the bed for support. 

You hummed, swallowing his load as best as you could as he worked the last bits of his orgasm with shallow thrusts. 

The grip he had on your scalp loosened and you were able to pull away after a while, but he watched you carefully to make sure you had swallowed it all.

You breathed, finally allowing some fresh air in. Saliva mixed with semen trickled down the corner of your mouth as you watched him emerging from the fog of his post-climax. He took deep and controlled breaths, straightening his posture.

You glared at him as he raised the bottom of his mask slightly to wipe sweat off his face.

“I’ll kill you.” You stated, your voice hoarse but firm.

Just when he removed his hand and pulled down the mask, you caught it for a split second.

The smirk stretching the corner of his lips.

 

Notes:

(Y/N) has the baddest of lucks lmao (not my fault I swear)

Chapter 7: The spider's eyes

Summary:

A tale of Michael's personal stress balls

Notes:

WARNING!!!! If you have arachnophobia DON'T read the part in italics. There is a spider. A big spider. Grossely described <3

Once Michael finally agreed to cut the ropes -you tried to grab the knife yourself but he quickly saw what you wanted to do with it and cut them himself- you were left alone. You didn't know if it was some kind of “reward” but he decided to leave the room which granted you peace.

You slopped on the bed after a shower -a very quick one, as you didn't want Michael to reappear at that moment- and were now immensely tired. All that running and stress was getting back to you. You rubbed your jaw and angrily admitted that this last activity also sucked the life out of you.

Haha…that wasn't funny.

You tiredly let out a small chuckle, ending it with a weary “aah”. You glanced at the window and saw that it was still pitch black outside. You were back to your house…but still as trapped as before.

 You weren't sure you wanted to try a new escape plan tonight.

As you stretched your arms before you, you noticed the cuts and bruises all over your arms. Some were barely noticeable. But some were pretty wide and bled in some places.

You stared at them and despite having your heavy eyelids already falling, you thought that you should treat them. The last thing you needed was an infection.

You grabbed some compresses and sat on the bed, spraying them with some disinfectant you found as well. You winced in pain when you dabbed it on your sliced arm. It stinged and you remembered yourself saying “it's not that bad” to your patients when you did it to them, and apologized silently.

A creak alerted you that Michael was coming in, discreet as always. He stood in the shadows of the entrance, silent with the inertia of spiders on their web. You stared at him, and were once again hit by how tall he was.

“What do you want?” You asked cautiously.

You weren’t sure how to act with him anymore. You could feel your heart racing again but were too tired to acknowledge it. At least, as far as you knew he didn’t have his knife. You watched him as he made his way to you slowly, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He stopped in front of you and you avoided his intense gaze.

“I'm cleaning my wounds.” You said in a dull voice.

Though you didn't look at him anymore and went back to dabbing the compress on your arm, you could still feel him staring. The air was dense now as some kind of tension rose in the room. You could recognize it now. It was the thick and strong desire to kill coming from him.

You slid the compress over a cut.

You wondered if he could feel yours too.

You continued to ignore him. 

In your peripheral vision you saw him moving and, scared of what he might still do, you raised your gaze.

Michael was pulling his sleeve, revealing the deep wound crossing his arm. You remembered that the hunter inflicted him a knife wound in the forest earlier. It was deep but not severe. It left a wide and gaping wound and you could see dry blood mixing with fresh blood coating his arm. It wasn’t very pretty and in great need of cleaning.

He showed it to you, arm raised and fist closed, unmoving. You sighed.

“You want me to help you with this?” You asked though the answer was obvious.

Michael probably saw you as his personal nurse…As well as his sex toy. He also seemed pretty adamant on having your attention. You wondered if he wasn’t really bothered by that wound but knew that you wouldn’t leave him like this and so would get your attention back.

“Fine, let me finish that and I’ll help you.”

You thought that he would leave the room for the time you finished…But you should have realized by now that Michael wasn’t that kind of person. He stood in front of you all along, dripping blood on the floor and watching you.

You rushed it in the end because he was making you nervous. As you brought your small med kit on your knees, you gestured to the bed and he sat, the mattress protesting vigorously to the sudden weight.

You took his arm and after soaking a compress with a saline solution, you first started cleaning the blood off his arm. 

You could feel his breath on your face and hear it echo under the mask. Your heart didn’t seem willing to rest and you shook your head discreetly, disappointed and betrayed by your own body. Up close like that, and not in a stressful situation, you could truly observe him.

The space left by his coveralls slightly open, allowed you to see his collarbones, perfectly sculpted above his pectorals. Your gaze slid up his skin and you saw the tendons and muscles of his shoulders tensed, moving with each breath.

You wondered what he looked like under that mask.

His body -you regretted it- was attractive in a lot of ways. His arms were strong, with thick veins, pulsating, crossing the skin like small snakes. His hands were big and rough, with prominent knuckles. Two deathly weapons, waiting to be used.

After cleaning enough blood, you poured disinfectant on a compress and started applying it on the wound. He had his head now turned towards the window and didn't even flinch. With how wide the wound was, he should at least be shuddering a little.

But it was as if you barely touched him.

You raised your gaze and saw through the holes of the eyes, his real eye looking straight ahead.

 It looked so…empty. But empty in a way a dark hole is infinitely black, creating that vast emptiness, with debris of once planets gravitating around it. And those for him were his impulses. It was like falling in the eye of a storm.

As you were starting to stumble in this neverending void, his eye shifted and turned towards you.

You immediately looked away, finding the compress in your hand suddenly far more interesting. Your cheeks flushed red and you cleared your throat briefly.

“Okay, you're all done.” You muttered, ready to close the med kit.

Michael stared at you without moving an inch, as if he didn't really hear you. He still had his arm resting on your thighs, palm turned towards the sky. You were going to reiterate your words when he started zipping down his coveralls.

Your heart jumped in your chest and you started panicking. What did he want this time? You were too tired to fight back.

He slid his fingers under his shirt and lifted it, revealing his bandages. You raised a questioning eyebrow and he grabbed your hand to press it on them, before staring at you intensely.

“You want me to take care of that as well?” 

No answer. His eyes stayed fixed on you.

Well, this seemed like a yes. It wasn't the first time he used that body language to tell you he wanted to have his bandages cleaned.

You sighed and grabbed the small scissors from the med kit and started cutting them. This time, Michael leaned forward, looking at you even closer. You were struggling to remove the bandages. You exhaled shakily, trying to ignore the tension building in your stomach. His gaze was so intense on you, you felt goosebumps forming on your neck.

The wounds were still healing but were now clean and on their way to close completely. You didn't even have much disinfecting to do which comforted you in the idea that this uncomfortable situation was soon to be over. You didn't know why he wanted you to see them as it didn't seem as painful as before.

“L-Looks good to me.” You said, putting the dirty bandages aside.

His hand brushed on your arm and he forcefully grabbed your palm when you moved back. You dropped the scissors and your eyes darted to his face. He tilted his head slowly and approached his second hand. He started dragging his finger along your palm. Letter after letter, he traced a word.

 

T-O-U-C-H

 

You stared at your hand in shock. You slowly raised your gaze and frowned in confusion but his expressionless face answered you. Though the request was clear, you failed to understand why. But the grip he had on your hand was a clear sign that you were supposed to oblige.

His face was close. You felt his hot, deep breath on you and it was getting hard for you to swallow.

You nodded slowly in agreement and he let go of you almost reluctantly.

What were you supposed to do?

You approached your hands and after a moment of hesitation, you pressed your palms on his chest. He took a deep breath and you felt your hands rising along his rib cage. Your hands slid on the surface of his skin, your fingers bumping into his embossed scars. You reached the crook of his neck and you immediately felt his body tensing up, as you got closer to his mask. 

He didn't like that.

You moved your hands further down. He watched you all along and sometimes his head hovered above your shoulder and he smelled you. You didn't know what he got from this interaction but he seemed to enjoy it, his chest rising more often as your hands travelled on his skin. 

You didn't know what you were supposed to feel, but your heart hammered in your chest.

You explored his chest and shoulders and arms, shaky fingers on pulsating muscles, brushing against his body hair. Sometimes you touched his recent wounds and he shivered slightly, but almost in pleasure.

You wondered if he even knew what intimacy or tenderness felt like. By the way he inquired to be touched, it felt like a need, a thirst for discovery. His will to kill was still present but it shifted into other things, and by the way he tilted his head, maybe he tried to find what it was.

You felt like you were petting a wild animal.

His fingers twitched when you touched him and his upper body was very close to you now. You glanced at the mask, inches away from your face and gradually stopped touching him.

You waited anxiously, wondering if he was going to twist your wrist again for you to continue. His breathing was calm and you tried to look into his eye for answers, as he wasn't moving.

The dark emptiness, this void deprived of any life, was this only thing you saw, swallowing his pupil. It was like looking into the eye of a marble statue.

It sent a shiver down your spine.

What did this say about him?

You felt a hint of pity, despite the anger swarming your heart.

“Michael…” you said softly, “I'd like to go to sleep.”

Your eyes were burning at this point and even if your body was tense because of his presence, you felt yourself capable of falling asleep right here, right now.

To your relief, he zipped up his coveralls and moved back. You laid down, hoping that he had not planned something else for you. Maybe if you showed him that you were really tired, he wouldn’t ask for another “favor”. But he simply stood up and stared at you, as always.

You wanted to wait until he left to fall asleep, but your body decided otherwise. You blinked a few times and then, your eyes closed on their own. You tried to fight the arms of Morpheus but you eventually fell asleep without realizing, Michael standing over you as the last thing you saw.

---

 

You opened your eyes and couldn’t move.

Your hands and feet were tied to something…sticky.

You couldn’t feel any fear though.

You tried to move your hands around but seeing that it didn’t do much, you eventually gave up.

It was so dark here. But your eyes were starting to fathom the things closer to you.

You turned your head and saw that you weren’t tied with ropes but with a sticky white thread. When you pulled on it, it squelched in a very unpleasant way. You looked around, and you realized you were actually surrounded by white strings, stretched even farther than your eyes could see.

Spider webs.

Gigantic, spider webs.

You frowned and after a while, you were able to identify something else. In the dark, deep in a white silky cocoon, you could see something big watching you. Its hairy black legs stuck out of it slightly, and eight red eyes stared at you.

A spider.

The size of a car.

Though at that moment you should have screamed, you remained calm. You stared at it in return. It didn’t move, or at least ever so slowly, its legs twitched, repositioning themselves near the cocoon. But it didn’t actually try to move towards you.

Was it going to eat you? Were you the fly, trapped on the spider’s web?

It only watched though. Like it was waiting for something.

Maybe you weren’t ripe enough, you thought, maybe you weren’t ready.

The cold, bulging eyes were locked on you, and their color reminded you of a fine glass of wine. What did it want, you wondered. Motionless, the spider was silent.

But did spiders even talk?

The only sound you heard was the buzzing of a fly.

This noise was coming from you

 

You opened your eyes and saw the blurry shape of Michael sitting on the bed beside you, his back facing you. You blinked, on the verge of falling back asleep. You noticed the mask on his knee and when you raised your gaze, you saw his long hair, falling on his shoulders. Just when he felt the weight of eyes on him, he started to turn around.

And you fell back asleep.

 

---

 

You were woken up by the soft kiss of sunlight on your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered and you hummed sleepily, enjoying the warmth radiating through your face. As far as you could tell, it was late in the morning. You could hear birds chirping outside despite the cold, and the sun was already high in the sky, bathing the bedroom in a gentle golden light.

You stretched yourself and felt how sore your legs were. This night of running really got back to you.

That last thought reminded you that you should still be cautious.

Michael was still around.

You looked around the room suspiciously, checking for the slightest sound of breathing. The fact that he could be so silent and sneaky -despite his monstrous size- drove you nuts. But after a while, you quickly saw that he wasn’t here. Relieved, you wondered if you shouldn’t stay in this room after all, if this meant you could have a bit of privacy. 

But you soon realized that you were really hungry when your stomach started rumbling.

You sighed and left the bed. You cautiously opened the door a crack to see if he was standing in front of it.

No one.

You exhaled deeply and nodded in satisfaction. Maybe he got bored of you, you thought. Maybe the fact he couldn’t kill you was frustrating enough that he decided to leave during the night…

You left the room, a smile on your face, and made your way to the kitchen. You grabbed a few things: water, fruits, cereals, bread, and started eating everything on the counter, not taking the time to sit down.

As you bit into an apple, you immediately stopped, catching something in your peripheral vision. You slowly turned your head, the fruit still in your mouth, and stared at Michael standing in the staircase, staring back at you.

You munched slowly, your eyes squinting into a glare from the kitchen.

What was he doing upstairs anyway?

You were a fool for thinking that he was gone. But you could somehow tell that he took the opportunity that you were asleep to actually go out and…do whatever a serial killer did during the night. 

You frowned. Better not think about it.

You chose to ignore him. You swallowed and took another bite of your food. He was going to jump on you at some point, get back to breathing down your neck…So better enjoy the distance between you and him for now. You discreetly grabbed the fork you took to eat a bit of leftover you had around and put it in your pocket.

Just in case.

You finished your “meal” and cleaned off the counter.

Michael still had not moved.

That was a new disturbing habit.

You anxiously glanced in his direction. There was something different, you could tell. The way he stared at you, was way more intense now. Perhaps it was because he was standing far from you. But there was something currently in his mind that you weren’t sure you wanted to be made aware of.

As you drank some water, you wondered what Michael got from this situation. He was obviously restraining himself from killing you. And he didn’t seem the kind to get easily tamed.

And yet.

You wondered if he knew what being in a relationship was like. If he thought that was it at all. This was far from even a normal one, he had a real obsession with you. But maybe he was curious. Did he ever get to be intimate with anyone? No, better not think about it as well. 

Sometimes, when you weren’t on the verge of having a panic attack, you felt like you were with a real horny teenager. What if that was it? What if he was discovering sex with you…His prisoner.

A chill ran down your spine.

That was so creepy.

 

You had to get a change of clothes upstairs but Michael seemed determined to stay in that staircase. You glanced at your bedroom then at Michael. He might only be trying to intimidate you.

You slowly walked towards the stairs, trying to ignore the intense gaze weighing down your shoulders. You grabbed the ramp and raised your eyes to meet him. He still had not moved and was standing straight as an arrow, arms on each side of his body. You were confirmed that he did go outside when you saw dirt on his legs.

Lucky bastard .

You put your foot on the first step.

No reaction.

You put your other foot on the second step.

He kind of turned his head, so slightly that you almost missed it. You didn't like that.

You felt like a cat trying to get past a dog.

You climbed the stairs slowly, feeling like the sword of Damocles was above your head. Maybe it was just you. Maybe he simply was back to stalking you.

Maybe the static in the air, the thick tension radiating from him was just your imagination.

Sweat rolled down your back as you went past him. Though you didn't look at him, you felt his eyes following you.

When you got to the space behind him, you briefly sighed in relief. You almost reached the first floor and were ready to step on the final step, when Michael grabbed you by the shirt.

Predictable. But still.

Oh no .

He yanked you backwards and you yelped. Your back bumped into his chest and as he wrapped his arm around you, he suddenly positioned his thigh between your legs to put his foot on a higher step. This way, you found yourself straddling his thick thigh, your feet barely touching the ground.

You tried to wiggle, scared and confused, but he kept both your arms into place with the grip of a single arm.

What was it this time? What dark fantasy did his sick mind create to nourish his desires?

“Let me go!” You snarled, pushing your back into his chest, hoping that it would make him fall.

The position you were in was more than uncomfortable but it triggered a devilish pressure down your crotch, which you desperately tried to ignore.

You tried to fight his grip but it hurt your arms and you quickly started panicking.

Michael inhaled deeply behind you, silent as always, but you grasped a hint of excitement in the way he breathed. You didn't like that at all. 

He leaned forward, his face sticking out by a few inches above your shoulder. You couldn't see well, but he almost seemed wishing to be as close as he could from your face. Despite sitting on him, he was still towering you, which didn't make it easier for you to move.

He approached his free hand from your chest and slowly slid it under your shirt. You watched in horror, seeing the thin fabric of your clothes moving along where his fingers went.

What was he doing? He never touched you like that before? 

You wondered if what happened yesterday night got to him a little too much. You gasped when you felt his hand on your breast and shook your head vigorously.

“N-no..”

He grabbed your breast and explored the shape of it, massaging it at different intensities. His hand was hot against your cold skin, his rough skin brushed against the soft and smooth surface of your breast.

You felt him tilting his head in curiosity when his fingers found the tip of your hardened nipple. You bit your bottom lip, refraining a moan from escaping your lips. It was sensitive, but you didn't want him to find out about it. His index came to rub it, first pushing it then making small circles. Your back arched at the sensation -also trying to get away from it- but you managed to stay silent.

Michael didn't seem satisfied with that last fact. He pushed his thigh harder against your crotch, pressed you more against him, and pinched your nipple, tugging it slightly.

You threw your head back and let out a restrained moan. You felt his hand twitching on your breast and gripping it tighter. Is that really what he was going for?

For your moans ?

You felt something hard pushing against your ass and your face flushed red. Michael grunted slightly at the friction and decided to go for your other breast. You panted, moving your shoulders in hope to get away from it, but he eventually found your other nipple and played with it as well, giving it a rougher treatment.

This sent sparks of electricity down your waist and you couldn't help but moan faintly. This, coupled with the pressure he applied down there with his thigh, was sending you over the edge. You wanted to stay quiet and deny him what he was looking for, but were struggling. His fingers searched for the perfect spot, the right way to pull and stretch your nips. 

His chest heaved rapidly with heavy panting. Getting annoyed with the restraint you showed, he removed the arm holding you to grasp both your breasts, one in each hand. As he tugged, squeezed and pinched your defenceless nipples, you cried out, jerking your head back. Michael let out a huff of satisfaction, rubbing himself harder against your lower back.

You were boiling inside, feeling yourself becoming wetter down there. His palms played with the way they hardened, tickling your insides in an unwanted delightful way.

When your nerves settled down a bit and Michael decided to roll your breasts in his hands, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, you remembered the fork.

You fumbled to reach your pocket and when you felt the cold and metallic handle of the fork, you grasped it and stabbed his thigh with it, with as much strength as you could.

The fork pierced through the fabric of his coveralls and reached the skin, piercing it as well. Michael jolted back with a grunt and you took this opportunity to jump off his leg. You stumbled forward and tripped on the stairs, falling on the first floor’s landing. You immediately turned around and crawled away from him, panting heavily.

Michael still stood straight with one foot forward and you could see his chest rapidly rising and falling. He glanced at the fork, standing upright in his leg, blood slowly darkening the navy color of his coveralls. Then his gaze slid towards you and you held your breath, feeling a wave of pure killing desire surging towards you. But you noticed his boner not wavering a bit -if not getting bigger- pushing under the fabric.

That freak was getting turned on by you trying to hurt him!

You felt sick in your stomach and glared at him. Michael held your gaze and ever so slowly, he leaned forward and grabbed the fork. He pulled it out, not flinching a bit, his eyes fixed on you. He threw it down the stairs and it clattered against the door. 

He was defying you.

You found yourself struggling to swallow.

But you did the same.

“Don't come near me, don't touch me like that again.” You said flatly, trying to suppress the fear making its way to your face, “I swear I'll kill you.”

Those last words ignited something in you, you didn't even know you had. You actually felt those words. You actually thought yourself capable of killing this man.

 Bringing his leg back under him, Michael tilted his head on the side, intrigued. His breathing slowed down and to your relief, he actually didn't make a move towards you.

You still created a bit more distance between you and him by pushing yourself out of reach and when you were sure that he wasn't going to grab you again, you jumped on your feet and rushed to your bedroom.

You slammed the door behind you, but in fear that he busted the door again, you didn't dare to lock it. You pressed your ear against the door and from what you could hear, Michael still had not moved.

He seemed to be waiting…ominously. Like a spider on its web.

Your breasts were sore from the rough treatment he gave them and you wondered what was next for you if you were near him again.

But even more, you were worried about how your body would betray you this time.

Notes:

SECOND WARNING

I love Michael <3

Chapter 8: The deal

Summary:

Michael is a gentleman

Your hands trembling, you managed to get a new set of clean clothes. You couldn't stop yourself from looking at the door, in fear to see Michael walking through it. You didn't hear any noise and wondered if he was guarding the door or something.

How long could you handle this situation?

You couldn't stay captive like that, hoping that he would eventually go away.

Michael was unpredictable and you weren't sure anymore what you could do to keep him away from you. What if some day he decided that you weren't of good use anymore and killed you like that hunter in the woods?

You shivered.

As you put on a pair of black shorts you thought about your scalpel in the bathroom. Still waiting to be used.

You knew it was well hidden and that he didn’t know about it. That was the one thing you had over him, since he would be more careful around the kitchen now, after the fork. But you had to be patient.

You noticed how badly he wanted your attention, how badly he wanted you to desire him. He even confused the intent to hurt him as a mark of affection…That fucking psycho.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired despite this invisible fire in your eyes. You weren't in the best situation, and yet you were still alive.

You took a deep breath.

Then, you were going to act as if he wasn’t around, hoping that eventually he would get annoyed enough and maybe leave the house…

You knew deep down that you were going to die before that.

You winced thinking about how it ended up last time you thought about waiting for him to get a specific reaction.

You didn’t know what actually went through his mind when you told him that you wouldn’t let him touch you again…but he seemed rather upset about it. You shook your head slightly. Well, you couldn't really know that for sure with this mask always covering his face. But he didn't seem willing to stop like that.

 

He still had not tried to enter the room and when you mustered the courage to finally open the door…You let out a scream when you found yourself face to face -or rather face to chest- with him.

You knew he was going to do that one day.

Your muscles tensed up, ready to defend yourself. You stared at his hands on each side of his body apprehensively but he didn't initiate anything. After a while, you managed to raise your gaze and your eyes met the two dark holes of the mask where the eyes should be.

You couldn't see anything at all.

His breathing was loud but steady and he was back to his statue-like appearance.

What was he thinking, now?

That was hard to tell. And his actions and body language were more than eclectic.

You quickly circled around him and this time, he didn't try to grab you. Though he did turn around to follow your movement.

Okay…so far so good.

You went downstairs and he followed you. You caught a glimpse of his bloodstained thigh which didn't appear to bother him at all.

Was he mad about that?

You thought earlier that he was going to push you into the room and do unspeakable things to you. But that wasn't the case. It looked like he was…waiting. For something.

 

---

 

Well, if before you thought that he was stalking you badly…Right now he was literally breathing in your neck. Wherever you went, whatever you did, he was following you everywhere in the house. You felt like you had a very heavy shadow stuck to your soles.

You tried to have a normal routine, you really tried. After all, you were trapped with nothing to do except worry for your own life. But it was far more difficult with someone ominously watching over you all day. He wasn’t even saying anything or trying to touch you. He just…stalked you. Quietly. And way too closely.

You tried to make lunch and failed miserably because you kept bumping into him and getting scared when he got too close. You tried “resting” on the couch but obviously, having the literal eye of Sauron above your head didn’t really help you relax. The only time you got him to actually do something else was when you tried to open the backdoor. You thought that it was worth a try.

“I have gardening to do.” You said.

But the hand gripping your wrist tightly wasn’t getting any looser. This episode did leave you shaking a bit. Even if he was silent and not actively hurting you, you felt deep, rooted fear -like a primal instinct- each time he touched you.

You knew that was your body telling you how dangerous he was.

At this rate, you would go insane from the constant pressure of having him behind your back. You couldn’t even go out and have a bowl of fresh air. You didn't know where to stand as you didn't know when or if he was going to try anything.

 

You tried to read a book in the living room. You hoped that it would be boring enough for him to do something else.

But he just stood in a corner of the room, motionless. 

 You glared at him, raising your gaze from your book. More than feeling uneasy, you felt annoyed. What were you even supposed to do? You were starting to miss the short period of time where he was unconscious on your guest bed. You didn’t understand why he was doing this. And that was totally different from what he did earlier.

“Don’t you have some killing to do?” you muttered sarcastically under your breath as you turned a page with more strength than needed.

His steady breath answered you. He stared at you and you rolled your eyes when he tilted his head on the side once again. That was getting tedious.

 You couldn't shake off the feeling that he was waiting for something. Did he take literally what you told him earlier today? If that was the case, this was going to be a never ending situation.

You sighed and put your book down. He initiated some kind of movement and you showed him a flat hand.

“I’ll stop you right here.” You said, “I’m going to get myself a snack and you are not invited.”

You didn’t know how much power you could have over him. If you had any at all. But you couldn’t handle this weird, unsettling, situation anymore. You had to take a break or at least, make him stop stalking you.

You started walking towards the kitchen and Michael -obviously- followed you. As you heard his heavy steps behind you, you clenched your fists. You let out a sharp breath through your nose and pursed your lips. 

He was the worst.

You thought you just had to wait for him to get annoyed…but you forgot one little thing. Michael would win any battle of patience and be a champion in any staring contest.

You would be the first one to lose.

You entered your kitchen and when you heard his steady breathing and felt it on your own skin, you turned around and let out an annoyed groan.

“God! Fine!” You exclaimed, stretching your hands in front of you, “What do you want?”

Michael wasn’t even slightly moved by your sudden outburst. He stood still in front of you but he did seem to be attentive. You could feel his gaze on you through the mask. You shook your head and sighed, holding your forehead.

“Anything for you to stop following me… Just tell me what you want.”

You were almost begging for the last part. This couldn’t go on and on like that. How many days had it been? How many days had passed since you were trapped in your own house with this psycho? With how this was going, you too would belong in an asylum.

You waited a few seconds. But he still didn’t seem ready to answer you. You wanted to rip off his creepy mask. Would he kill you for that? Maybe.

Anything was better than your current situation anyway.

But Michael stayed silent.

You shrugged angrily and made a movement to turn around. But before you could do a full turn, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. 

You immediately regretted your words. What were you even thinking? You kept acting like you had a teddy bear in front of you when it was a full grown grizzly bear…and probably hungry with that.

You tried to hide the fear that was clawing its way to your face. You had to refrain from tugging on your arm. What was he going to do this time? Maybe it was the last straw, maybe he was finally going to kill you.

 He leaned forwards and tilted his head.

“I-I mean if you don’t want to, that's fine.” You said with a wobbly smile.

You could feel his hot breath on your face. You could barely see his eyes but you felt how intense his gaze was. Your heart started pounding hard against your rib cage again as you saw him bringing your hand closer to his chest.

Michael suddenly raised his other hand and pressed his index inside your palm.

T-O-U-C-H

His eyes were fixed on you. Confused, you tried to decipher anything in his eyes but he stayed impassive.

You frowned.

“You want me to touch you?” You asked.

Silence.

“Like yesterday?”

He huffed under his mask -which was probably the closest thing you could get from an answer- and you understood that you were wrong.

What did he want then? You weren’t able to understand.

You stared at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say. Was it an inquiry? Should you try massaging him again or something?

Michael leaned forward once again and started writing “touch” in your palm again but you yanked your hand away before he could finish.

“I got it.” You said, slightly disturbed.

You rubbed your palm absentmindedly and glanced at him. He wasn’t moving and was clearly waiting for something. 

Waiting to touch you again.

A bell rang in your head. That's what he wanted. He wanted to touch you like earlier.

You stared at him in horror and even if obviously he saw you finally getting it, he didn't show anything. You didn't know what to say.

But more importantly, you didn't understand why he was asking your permission. He did not hesitate the other times to force you to do what he wanted.

Then what was different?

You observed him and he looked…calm. Well, stoic was more accurate. It was like looking into the eyes of a statue. But you could tell that he was observing you as well.

Michael wasn't stupid.

And you said yourself that he wanted you to desire him. He didn't like you restraining yourself when he touched you either. Which meant…He might be thinking that getting you to accept would make things easier.

Your face turned ashen gray.

That was his idea of consent?

Harassing you and stalking you until you abdicated wasn’t really “consenting”.

But on the other hand…

You couldn't go on and on like that, with this psychopath stuck to your soles. If you wanted to build an escape plan, you had to get some alone time. You also weren’t really looking forward to spending the night with him hovering above your head, staring.

You glanced in his direction anxiously.

Maybe it wouldn't take long…

You took a deep breath and raised your head to face him.

“Alright. You can touch me but only if you leave me alone after that…and I mean really alone.”

You weren’t even finished when he stepped forward. You watched him as he reduced even more the distance between you and him. You shivered, regretting once again your words. For someone who was mute, he sure wasn’t deaf.

And you felt like you just made a deal with the devil.

 His hand immediately came to grab your jaw and you let out a small whimper. You could feel some form of tension pooled at the tip of his fingers. His thumb slid along your bottom lip and opened your mouth. Your inner you screamed and wailed, wishing to get away from this embrace. But despite the fear, you felt a hint of curiosity. Why would he desire to touch you that much? 

His other hand came to grab the bottom of his mask to lift it. 

You caught a glimpse of his somewhat full lips, surrounded by scars. He leaned in and before you could say anything, he kissed you, avid lips catching yours. Your hands fumbled on his coveralls, unable to know what to do. He was…a good kisser. You couldn’t deny that. Though you knew what was going on was wrong…You couldn’t help but let it happen.

Was it in hope to survive longer? Or was it because you actually enjoyed it?

As his tongue ventured in, you moaned softly, hands shaking. There was an indescribable feeling nesting inside your stomach. You felt almost sick but also exhilarated. Your eyelids fluttered as you tried to understand what your body was telling you.

The hand on your jaw came to grab your shirt and you opened your eyes. You looked down and saw him trying to remove your clothes. Panic settled in and you broke the kiss.

A faint grunt escaped his lips and he stared at you questioningly -as much as you could decipher what was under the mask. You shook your head and took a step back.

“No…” You breathed, clenching your tank top. You had trouble handling your breathing and your strong heartbeats didn’t help.

Unfazed by your reaction, he forcefully grabbed your wrist and wrote down “touch” again in your palm, almost accusing. We have a deal , were almost the words you heard. You removed your hand and swallowed nervously.

“I…I decide how I want to be touched.” You said slowly, raising a defying gaze.

He tilted his head on the side and you felt once again this tension rising in the air. The strong murder intent emanating from him. You tried to ignore it and turned around to press your palms on the kitchen’s counter.

He surely wanted to touch your chest again. But you didn't want to face him for that, as that last kiss brought emotions inside, you didn't want to feel.

You wondered what he found so appealing in touching you anyway. 

As expected, Michael pressed his body against yours without a word and his hands came to cup your breasts. You inhaled sharply, goosebumps travelling at the surface of your skin. He was actually more gentle than earlier somehow. But his body was solid against yours, giving you the impression of having a brick wall next to you.

The heat of his body radiated throughout your back and rear. His hot breath was back on your neck and you leaned in this warmth, trying to focus yourself on it instead of where he was touching you.

Your breathing matched his, deep and slow, your back curving when his stomach sank. You hummed slightly at the sensation of his fingers brushing against your nipples. You couldn’t explain why, but you somehow enjoyed feeling him against you. Was it because you were in what was close to a soft embrace? Was it his hands, gentle and unyielding, allowing pleasure when there should be pain?

You panted, your eyes shutting tightly as you felt his hands wandering on your chest. You couldn’t decipher anything in his breathing, or in the empty sockets of his mask, but his hands were somewhat eager. They searched and stretched the skin, giving you random shots of pleasure. You felt like you were in highschool again, allowing a horny teenager to touch a woman’s body for the first time.

You moaned softly and you felt his right hand, slowly sliding down your stomach, and when you felt his fingers reaching your lower stomach, your eyes opened wide.

“No, I don’t…”

Your words barely escaped your lips that Michael grabbed your hands, trying to pull his away, and slammed them on the counter. You shuddered and tried to escape his prodigious grip that felt like iron shackles locked around your wrists. He leaned even more forward, pushing you with his weight. You tried to wriggle but eventually, you were caged by his own gigantic body.

Unbothered by your protestations, his free hand continued its way down your groin, into your shorts. You huffed and puffed, desperately trying to move away from his touch.

It was humiliating how he could handle both your hands with one single hand. How stupid of you to think that he would play along and only touch you where you wanted.

His fingers reached the folds of your pussy, and after exploring the corners of it, he eventually found the entrance and inserted his middle and ring finger inside.

You jerked your head and cried out, his fingers too dry at first. But after several in and out motions of his fingers, you felt that you were getting wetter which horrified you. They were large inside despite being only two and you were taken aback by the feeling of fullness it gave you when they reached deeper.

You moaned and tried to buck your hips away from his hand which didn’t do much as he strengthened his grip on your hands. Michael seemed particularly interested in the way you got wetter and wetter and fingered you relentlessly. You could hear squelching noises as he did which mortified you. How could you be so wet already? His palm massaged your clit each time he tilted his hand to insert his fingers and you found yourself unable anymore to ignore the waves of pleasure coming from there. You could feel your cunt clenching around him and your clit hardening, getting more and more sensitive with the friction.

This wasn’t what you wanted.

You couldn’t enjoy that. You were furious. Against him. Against yourself for reacting to this treatment. Your moans were more present, treacherious, encouraging him to continue.

You wanted to cry out of rage.

Michael was still behind you, solid as a rock, unreadable, but you could feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against your rear. He rubbed himself, so subtly against you through his coveralls, in rhythm with his fingers sinking inside of you. It sickened you and even despite that fact, you could feel yourself getting wetter. He pressed his head against yours, the plastic of the mask tickling your neck.

He wanted to hear you moan, he wanted to feel you wet his hand entirely. You trembled under him, your legs getting weaker as the sensations overwhelmed you. The beginning of an orgasm was building itself inside your core and you poorly tried to resist him.

“Michael, please…” You pleaded in a breath, silenced by your heart hammering in your chest.

Michael thrusted harder behind you, maybe at the call of his name, and inserted his index inside you as an answer. You squealed and your clit twitched as he stimulated even more your g-spot with his three fingers. But they felt so big, filling you terribly well. His hand was soaked now and his palm glided on your aching nub, offering you that perfect and nefarious friction.

You moaned loudly as you came, body shuddering under him. Gasping for air, you rolled your hips against his hand to prolongate your orgasm, his fingers still fucking you as you squirted on him. Your legs almost gave out and you were only held by the firm grip he had on your forearms, which didn’t once waver.

You sobbed, realizing how pitiful you were from coming so quickly to the hands of your abuser.

But it did feel extremely good, no matter what you tried to tell yourself.

Michael finally let go of your cunt and you sighed in relief, thinking that it was finally over. But at the corner of your foggy eyes, you watched him as he pulled the zipper of his coveralls to free his hard, throbbing cock free. The head was of a deep red and thick veins pulsed around its length.

Seeing you like this didn’t leave him indifferent…and it showed.

He coaxed himself with your slick, pumping his cock a few times to get it fully wet. You were ashamed of how much his hand glistened because of you.

Still, in the mist of your post climax, you tried to recollect your thoughts, and find a way to leave this situation. Your wrist hurt from the constant strain he put on them and you could see bruises flourishing at the surface of your skin.

What could you do?

Trapped…you were trapped again.

But before you could catch your breath, he abruptly pulled down your pants, almost ripping off the seams. You yelped as it fell down your ankles and Michael shoved you harder against the counter. Still keeping his left hand locked on yours, his other arm wrapped around your legs as he effortlessly lifted your butt.

You emitted a weak squeal, it was as if you weighed nothing to him.

 His arm’s muscles felt like solid rock against you and his fingers dug in the soft flesh of your thighs. You whined, feeling even more vulnerable. Cyprine was slowly running down your legs and you bit your lips, disgraced and humiliated.

Michael seemed to observe for a moment your wet entrance, perhaps in satisfaction, before shoving his dick between your thighs in a precise hip thrust. It glided perfectly in and you were astonished by how hard it was as you could feel it throbbing under you.

This couldn’t be happening again…You were utterly distraught. But Michael didn't appear to be finished with you. He wanted more, he wanted flesh.

Positioned like this, he strengthened his grip on your legs to squeeze them tighter together around him. Though his breathing didn’t change, nor did he talk, you felt him somewhat enthusiastic as he started thrusting.

Looking down, you could see his dick appearing and disappearing under you. His cockhead, drenched with your slick, brushed against your used clit, triggering new shots of pleasure. Despite his hardness, it was so well lubricated that each movement against your nub felt horribly delightful. If he kept on like this you knew you would come again. You cried out, shaking your head both in dismay and in a vain attempt to protest.

“Michael, please, not again…” You sobbed.

The murderer, ignoring your plea, squeezed your legs even tighter and the pressure it added on you sent you on edge. It was too much. Yet, not enough. You could feel your cunt aching for contact, twitching for fullness…

For his fucking cock. It was begging for it.

Michael knew it. You could feel his gaze on your bare ass, watching your pussy leak on him as you rode him. But for some unknown reason, he wouldn’t give it the attention it seeked. As a punishment perhaps, for refusing to face him. 

But he enjoyed that. He was having the time of his life, seeing you finally giving in. You could see precum dripping at the tip of his cock, down your thighs. Meanwhile, you were starting to feel dizzy from the overstimulation. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as your body rolled closer to its tipping point. You didn’t want to moan, not again, not…

Michael grunted under his mask, his hips hammering against your rear, painfully pushing your ribs into the counter. As he also approached his climax, his fingers sank deepy into your skin, leaving bruises there too. It was painful, yes. But your clit didn’t mind.

After a few thrusts, you let out a throaty moan as you came a second time, your hips jerking through the pulsations of your orgasm. This was almost painful, but you weren’t sure about the veracity of your own sensations as the sensory overload was literally rotting your brain.

Michal’s grip tightened on you and through the slight daze overcoming you, your head down, you saw his dick appearing in your field of vision, sputtering cum all over your counter. He gave forceful, slower thrusts, which shook your whole body, before staying still.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply, his grip on you still strong. You breathed shakily, your body twitching under him.

“Put me down…” You muttered, “Put me down, please.” You added in a weaker tone.

Michael finally let go of your hands and you winced in pain as blood rushed back inside your veins. Without a word, he removed his still throbbing cock from your thighs and dropped you down.

You stumbled, your legs barely handling your weight but managed to grab in extremis the counter for support. You slowly turned around to look at him as he put his shaft back into his underwear and zipped his coveralls up.

You wanted to latch out on him. You wanted to scream, to rip off his stupid mask and his face with it. You felt disgusting and disgusted. You knew as he stared at you, that he could see the murderous glare you gave him.

But he didn't seem to care, or at best, it almost seemed to amuse him.

He leaned forward, silently, and appeared to take a better look at your deadly gaze. He approached his hand from your face and his rough fingers brushed against your cheeks as he tilted his head on the side.

You swallowed, your eyes finding his in the shadows of his mask.

It was worse than you thought.

He loved that gaze you gave him.

You resisted the urge to yank his enormous hands away from you and inhaled deeply.

“You got what you wanted” You stated in a calm voice, “Now, leave me alone.”

Michael paused and cold sweat ran down your back when you felt the intense urge to kill pooling at the tip of his fingers, still touching your face. But despite that, he seemed to consider your words and straightened his back, before removing his hand. You sighed in relief and watched carefully as he stepped back.

Only when he left the kitchen, and went somewhere else out of sight, the mask fell from your face. You held the counter and exhaled shakily, feeling tears swelling at the corner of your eyes.

Notes:

I would think twice before making a deal with Michael Myers...
Thank you to the few people who comment each chapter! <3 It really helps me going

Chapter 9: The beginning of insanity

Summary:

Michael is late

Notes:

Thank you for your kind comments <3 Hope you'll like this new chapter!

 

Kill him.

Kill him.

Those words echoed in your mind like a lost lullaby.

Was it your voice saying them? You weren't even sure anymore. They sounded like an order but if you listened long enough it rather sounded like a plea.

You were spiraling.

After that Michael left you, you quickly cleaned your kitchen where his “mess” still coated the counter and cleaned yourself as well. You didn't even check where he went, you only had one wish: be alone.

You locked yourself in your bedroom, not caring one bit that it didn't please him, and curled into a ball on the bed.

You hated him.

But even more, you hated yourself.

Despite cleaning every part of your body you still felt dirty. And even if you were finally left alone, as agreed with this god forsaken pact, you noticed that you still wet your underwear.

You couldn't stop it, it was almost like your body was begging for more.

Still drooling over his cock.

It made you sick to your stomach.

 

Even when night fell, you didn't leave your room. You thought you were tired, but your head wouldn't let you rest. You stared at the corner of your room, clenching your knees between your arms like a grounded child, in total darkness.

Michael seemed to respect the deal and didn't disturb you once. You didn't know where he was.

Good riddance, you thought.

But you knew he would be back the moment he decided that the deal was over. How long for him to realize that? You had no idea, but considering his need to answer his impulses, you might not have very long.

And then…what?

A restless mind is only pieces of a healthy one.

After a while of thinking what should you do next, alone in the dark, this voice appeared.

Kill him .

At first it was only a whisper, a breath in the night. But as hours passed, as sleep slipped further away from you, it became more present, more agressive. You couldn't ignore it any more. It was the same voice you heard when Michael tried to kill you the first night.

Did it even leave you? You wondered. But tired as you were, you failed to notice the strangeness of it.

 

When the night came to an end, but morning wasn't there yet, you weren't sure if anything was real anymore. The voice gnawed at your brain, relentless and persistent.

Your bloodshot eyes slowly trailed towards the door. You didn't hear anything all night. Was Michael really gone or creeping behind the door? 

Kill him , the voice said in a motherly tone.

You put your feet on the ground, allowing you aching muscles to finally move. You made your way to the door, floorboards creaking under your weight. Through the window, you heard branches snapping outside but didn't pay it attention.

You had a goal in mind.

Like a ghost, you opened the door and walked to the bathroom. Michael wasn't here to stop you. But you didn't want to keep your hopes up. He was surely somewhere downstairs.

As you faced the mirror you saw your pale skin, your dark circles and ghostly expression. The person looking back at you looked so tired.

But the fire in her eyes shined brightly, unyielding and forever.

You opened the drawer under the sink and got out your scalpel. It shimmered in the pale darkness and you found yourself caught in its reflection.

It was pretty.

You turned the small blade between your hands.

Would it still be pretty covered in blood?

You snapped back to reality when those words crossed your mind. You glanced at the scalpel in your hand in horror and had the urge to throw it away.

What were you becoming?

What was he turning you into?

But you felt like you had no other choice. What else could you do? Stay as Michael's little toy?

You fixed your eyes on the scalpel.

...Or choose to live?

As a lump formed in your throat, you gripped your small weapon tightly. You couldn't back down now.

You could do it.

You could kill Michael Myers.

 

---

 

You opened the door slowly and this time, looked carefully around. The house was silent. As the sun hadn't risen yet, it bathed in a quiet darkness, which you weren't sure you liked. 

What was Michael up to?

Did he really leave the house to honour your deal?

As it was impossible for you to know that for now, the best was to assume he was still here.

You walked silently to your stairs, feeling like you might find him at any corner. This man could be so sneaky despite his size, you couldn't trust your seemingly empty house.

As you went down the stairs, making sure to avoid any creaking step, you wondered how you were going to proceed.

Stab him when he had his back turned?

Wait for him to touch you again to shove it in his throat?

Would it even stop him? Bullets didn't…

And what would you do after? Calling the police was the obvious answer. But would they find out that it was a premeditated murder?

The scalpel felt heavy in your hand, like it was bearing an invisible weight.

You reached the living room and felt incredibly vulnerable at that moment. The room felt too big. You were supposed to attack someone…but rather felt like the prey. You looked around for a bit but there was no tall and ominous man in sight.

“M-Michael?” You tried cautiously, hiding your scalpel behind your back.

The humming sound of your heater in a corner answered you. But you still didn't move. You could hear something outside the house. Leaves rustling. Twigs snapping.

Something was approaching the back door…or someone.

You readied yourself, not even daring to turn on the light. If Michael did leave, he was now back. Maybe you should have enjoyed more this temporary freedom…

The doorknob suddenly rattled and your whole body stiffened. Whoever was outside struggled to turn it.

 After a few seconds of furiously battling with it, it stopped. Silence fell and you only heard your rapid breathing. You lowered your shoulders which had risen with the tension.

Was it… gone ?

As an answer, you heard a loud crack and the door flung open, pieces of wood flying everywhere in the kitchen.

You shrieked, despite being on the other side of the house. Someone stepped in, wheezing and holding something tightly in their hands.

“You fucking bitch…” A voice you thought you wouldn't hear again coughed, “I knew you lived here.”

Before you stood the hunter, covered in dirt and blood, holding his rifle in one hand and his stomach with the other. He was pale like death, the only colour standing out being his own blood splattered on his face. His bloodshot, irate, eyes stared at you with vengeance, on the verge of insanity.

How could he still be alive?

You saw Michael stabbing him and throwing his body in the woods. A full day had passed, he should be drained of all his blood by now.

He looked so immensely mad that you wondered if rage kept him alive.

Dumbstruck, you were frozen into place. You noticed a huge amount of dirt on his stomach. Not dirt…clay. That's what he used to stop the bleeding?

He stepped forward, breathing heavily, looking like he needed to gather his entire strength to make one single movement. Your eyes darted to the rifle in his hand as he grabbed it to cock it.

Oh shit.

You instantly ducked when the eye of the barrel faced you. You heard the detonation and the bullet crashed into the wall behind you, just where your head was a second before. You panted and pressed your body behind a piece of furniture.

What was going on?

Why was he mad at you ? Michael was at fault here!

And as a matter of fact, where was he when you needed him?

You heard the empty rifle shell clinking on the floor as he reloaded. You took a peek, trying to stay out of aim.

He was bleeding all over the floor and you could see that it was painful for him to even hold his weapon.

“You should go to a hospital!” You shouted, trying to reason with him.

A loud bang and a bullet passing by only a few inches from your nose answered you.

“I'll feel much better when both Michael and you will be dead.” He grunted as he searched for another bullet.

Seeing that as crazy as he was right now, you wouldn't be able to reason with him. You had to stop this madness.

You had to get the gun out of his hands.

As he reloaded, you jumped from your hiding place to another, closer to him, which was the wall separating the kitchen from the living room. A bullet ricocheted on it to finish its course into your couch. You shuddered at the loud bang and almost dropped your scalpel.

You were scared. 

Your hands shook and your legs felt on their way to give out.

You were terrified of dying.

He was slow, weakened by his wound. You could strike when he was going to reload again. But what if you miscalculated? What if a bullet hit you?

A shiver ran down your spine. At that moment, you had a thought for Michael. You knew deep down that if you didn't tell him to leave him alone, he might have protected you.

No, not might…he definitely would.

But right now you were on your own. You were tired of being defenceless. You stayed all those years alone, like a recluse, and perfectly managed. So why would it be any different when it came to defending yourself ?

You clenched your teeth, and when you heard the familiar sound of him fumbling through his coat to find a usable cartridge, you didn't think twice. You gathered all your strength, all your fear, every single one of your emotions.

You dashed out of your hiding spot and jumped on him. You screamed and so did he. But while it was out of fear for him, it was out of anger for you.

You grabbed the shotgun and tried to yank it away from him.

“Let go!” he snarled, pulling it towards him.

“I have nothing to do with you!” You muttered through your gritted teeth, “You should have thought twice before trying to kill a serial killer!”

Both of you danced like that, struggling against each other's grip for a while before the hunter suddenly pushed you against a wall. You grunted, pain radiating throughout your back. You tried to push away the barrel of the shotgun that he was shoving against your throat, trying to strangle you with it.

“Once you're dead…” He huffed, pushing harder, “I'll hunt down this motherfucker. See what a knife in his guts does for him.”

Sweat rolled down your temples as you felt your trachea starting to hurt. You couldn't use your scalpel as your arm was crushed by the stock and air was getting rarer.

In a moment of panic, you groaned and threw your knee in his stomach, just where his wound was.

The hunter yelled in pain and immediately released you to clutch his belly. Dry clay crackled and fell on the ground revealing the open wound. You could see his wet guts pushing against the skin, stretching the opening. Ignoring this disgusting view, you grasped the rifle again and hit him in the head with it.

The hunter yelled a second time and this time crashed on the floor, holding his nose starting to bleed.

This was your chance.

Before he could get back on his feet, you kicked the weapon away from him and straddled him, putting his arms under your knees.

He struggled under you, trying to use his bodyweight to move you. Annoyed, you raised your scalpel in the air menacingly.

“You're done!” You said, “I'm going to call the police so stop fighting!”

The hunter winced in pain, coughing up blood as you sat on his wound.

“Like you're going to use that.” He grunted, eyeing at the scalpel in your hand, “I'm not scared of you, you stupid bitch.”

A hoarse, raspy, laugh escaped his dry lips as he fixed his eyes on you mockingly. You took sharp breaths through your gritted teeth, feeling desperate rage rising in your chest.

You're wron g, you thought, you're wrong !

You clasped your other hand around the one holding the scalpel for a better grip, rising it above your head.

You were not helpless.

You could defend yourself.

Your arms shook with the tension, your heartbeats hammering in your ribcage.

You could kill him too if you wanted.

But you weren't going to.

Then why.

 

Why did you feel so excited?

 

As he saw your eyes widening in horror, the hunter laughed some more. But he immediately stopped when a tall shadow covered him.

You first saw knees positioning themselves on each side of your body, then felt someone pressing their chest against your back. You shuddered when you saw two gigantic hands wrapping their fingers around yours, holding the scalpel as well.

You immediately understood.

“Michael, no!” You shouted.

But you didn't even have the time to finish your sentence that those hands forced yours down. 

You couldn't hear anything beside your heartbeats when you saw the blade of the scalpel that you held, sinking in the flesh on the man under you. You didn't hear his scream, or the squelching noise it made when it pierced through the skin, blood splattering all over your face. The blade rested between the collarbones as blood bubbled out of the impact point. You stared blankly at the hunter, choking on his own blood, and tried to remove your weapon.

But Michael held your hands firmly and you watched helplessly as this man agonised in front of you.

 

After a while, he stopped moving and eventually, you didn't feel any breathing or heartbeat under you. Blood continued to pour out of the wound, pooling under his neck and in the crook of his collarbones.

A single drop fell from your chin and you felt like you could hear again, despite the ringing in your ears.

Michael removed his hands slowly and stood up.

You stared in total dismay at the lifeless corpse in front of you. You realized you still had not let go of the scalpel and jolted back as if it just burned you.

“What have I done…” You breathed, eyes widening with dread.

Michael's arm suddenly wrapped around your chest to lift you up. It was almost tender, almost fatherly, but you didn't notice. You couldn't avert your gaze from the hunter.

He was dead.

You killed him.

As you got back on your feet, you tried to push his arm away but he held you tightly. You turned around, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you faced him. Michael was stoic, standing straight and staring at you, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist. You couldn't see anything through the holes of his mask but you felt his intense gaze on you.

“Why did you do that?” You sobbed, “I didn’t want to kill him!”

You were a nurse…You were supposed to help people. Not kill them!

You pressed your palms on his chest as you spoke, desperately trying to push him away. But Michael wouldn't budge. You could feel his chest rising against you with each of his deep breathing, his grip not wavering. 

Your clenched fists came to hit him on his pectorals.

It was his fault!

You didn't want to! You knew you had to defend yourself…but you didn't want this situation to end like this. It was him! And if he had not been there, it wouldn’t have happened!

You could have…

 

You could be…

 

Your words trailed off in your mind.

 

Maybe you would be dead.

 

You sniffled.

After a while your movements slowed down and you eventually stopped hitting him. You cried silently against his chest.

You hated him. But at that moment, you leaned in the warmth of his body, clinging to any kind of comfort. His heartbeats soothed you, in a way you couldn’t explain.

Michael, after several minutes of total inertia, finally raised his arm. His hand came to lift your chin. You moaned as it was abrupt and it painfully hurt your jaw.

Your heart still beating hard in your chest, you stared at him in confusion. His calloused thumb smeared the blood on your face, slowly brushing against your lips. It felt sticky, and you had not realized until then how much of it was on your face.

His gaze was fixed on you and when you caught a glimpse of his eye, he seemed almost mesmerized. It was such a weird gesture from him, but if you were to analyze it, you would say that…

He was… admiring it?

He was admiring your face covered in blood.

Before you could say anything, he suddenly lifted the bottom of his mask and crushed his lips against yours. You hummed in surprise and tried to fight his grip but you found yourself unable to.

You melted in this impromptu kiss, adrenaline and fear making you lightheaded.

As his tongue ventured in, the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. You wondered if he enjoyed that, tasting it with you.

His fingers were tangled in your hair, firmly holding you into place to deepen the kiss. His lips devoured you, and as your skin brushed against him, you felt his hunger.

His hunger for you.

Murder and blood made him feel alive.

Seeing them on you made him feel aroused.

Pressed against him, you could feel his erection growing between the two of you. He had apparently no real perception of a good or bad moment. He just liked killing and seeing death around him.

Michael kind of glanced at the door of the guest room and suddenly lifted you. You yelped and wiggled in his arms as he walked towards it. You knew what he wanted to do and you weren't sure you were in for it.

Through the open door, he threw you like a bowling ball, not even trying to be gentle. You stumbled, swept away by your own weight, and fell on the floor, just in front of the bed.

Your eyes darted in his direction, wondering if he was going to grab you again to throw you on the bed.

But apparently Michael didn't have the patience, nor the actual will, to reach the bed anymore.

 He fell on his knees with a loud thud -which made the floorboards creak menacingly- just in front of you and grabbed you by the ankle. You screamed as he dragged you under him, his giant hands coming to place you between his legs.

“Michael, wait!” You said, trying to remove his hands from your pants.

The sound of fabric ripping stopped you in your sentence. You watched as he destroyed your pants and underwear as if it was a simple tissue. You could hear him taking deep, steady breaths, under the mask, not even looking at you.

When your bare pussy was out, he stopped to take -what you assumed was- a look and you tried to close your legs shyly. Your cheeks flushed red but he didn't give you time to be more embarrassed. His hands grabbed your thighs, fingers digging in your soft flesh, and spread your legs.

You inhaled sharply at the dull pain of your muscles forcibly stretched as you watched him zipping down his coveralls until it reached under his underwear.

He kind of hummed as he pulled the elastic of his boxers and his member bobbed free.

It was huge.

It appeared even bigger than the other times you saw it. The veins pulsed along his shaft, watering his cock with hot blood. The head was red, slightly dripping with precum.

And it looked so, so, very hard.

He was aroused alright.

You stared at it with wide opened eyes, and noticed in great shame that you were immediately wet down there. Pavlov's effect one might say.

Michael stroked it slowly, his eyes fixed on your pitiful wet cunt. You were slightly taken aback by the sheer size of it and moved back subconsciously.

But Michael didn't have time for that.

He towered you with his body, slamming his hand next to your face to keep you into place. You shuddered, sweat rolling down your temple.

This was wrong. But you couldn't find the strength in you to put a stop to this. After the fear, after the blood and adrenaline, it was like your heart begged for this proximity, this sick craving for attention.

Your clit throbbed in need and you couldn't ignore it anymore.

His free hand grabbed his cock and he started rubbing the tip through your folds. You moaned as it brushed against your clit, the head soft and slick with your wetness. The size still made you doubtful of your adaptation capacities. But your mouth still watered at the sight of it, your walls hurting from the lack of touch.

This was pathetic wasn't it?

Thirsting for your own boogey man.

Michael didn't seem to have more time to give to foreplay. When he found the entrance again, he instantly inserted it, his shaft gliding perfectly in. 

Your jaw dropped at the sensation of your insides stretching to accommodate the hard, foreign object. It had been a while since you put anything…in. And  this wasn't exactly “taking it easy”

But it felt…marvellous.

This feeling of fullness when he reached the bottom grabbed you by the throat and you gasped, your hands trembling.

Michael emitted a hoarse sigh of relief, so discreet you almost missed it, as if he had been holding on too long. His hand next to your ear clenched while the other grasped your leg tightly, lifting it next to his chest.

And then, he started pounding.

His hips hit you with unbridled strength, loud slaps echoing through the room. You were already so wet that his in and out thrusts were totally controlled, your pussy not even resisting the harsh pressure. It clenched around him greedily, as if it wanted to absorb it.

 A dirty moan escaped your lips when the first tingles of pleasure radiated through your cunt, his dick mercilessly brushing hard against your g-spot.

It felt so good. You felt so ashamed to admit that. His dick felt heavenly as he pounded into you, his tip hitting your cervix each time, triggering an odd mix of pain and delight.

Your cunt clenched and drooled and twitched, swallowing him like a good fuck hole. You couldn't do anything except moan and gasp.

But the worst was seeing his face, and noticing in the shadow of his mask, his unique eye staring intensely at you. It made your swollen clit throb even more, and you didn't know why.

You turned your head to the side and averted your gaze, trying to preserve the last bits of decency you had.

You didn't want to see it happening. You already couldn't suppress the noises you made and couldn't handle seeing him ramming into you anymore.

But Michael decided otherwise. He tilted your hips upward slightly, pushing your legs down. His fingers bruised your skin easily, not caring if it hurt you or not.

Now folded in two like that, the sensations increased and you let go a confused moan as you could feel the beginning of an orgasm swelling deep inside you.

No , you thought to yourself, no, please .

You couldn't come that fast already. But you knew that your body had accumulated some frustration over the last few days, from not getting the dick it desired. Even if you tried to restrain it. And it was now gleefully leaning into whatever it could get.

You were a panting, drooling mess, and still, Michael wanted more.

He grabbed your jaw and forced you to turn your head in his direction. You whimpered, trying to fight his grip, your eyes meeting his once again, those black holes swallowing you in their emptiness. He wanted to be witnessed. He wanted you to come on him and see it all.

You stared helplessly into his pupil as he thrusted harder into you, fucking you into the ground. Your body shook with each thrust, his cock so hard you could feel each of his veins against your walls.

And the more you stared into him and the more your cunt throbbed.

 

When your climax hit you, it was like a wave, first stagnant, suddenly surging onto you and drowning everything in its path.

You let go a breathy moan, panting as he worked every bit of your toe-curling orgasm with his cock stroking your g-spot.

And through it all, not even blinking, he stared down at you, his stolid eye fixed on you, tilting his head on the side with curiosity.

And you watched. You watched as he fucked you and as you came.

Your strained pussy clenched and squeezed him harder, looking for more friction. You felt that it was difficult for him to handle the death grip it had on his, now throbbing, cock anymore. He grunted quietly under his mask, his hand tightly gripping your leg pushing it down even more, your knees almost reaching your ears.

He was now fully on top of you, fucking you mercilessly as he now focused on his own pleasure instead of yours. It was wilder, and through the fog of your post climax, you could see you were nothing more but a fuck hole at that moment for him.

As his head reached the crook of your neck, you heard him breathing loudly, yet barely much faster than usual.

The hand holding your face slowly reached for his mask to uncover the bottom part. You glanced in his direction groggily, trying to see what he was doing.

Then you suddenly felt a hot flash of pain on your shoulder.

You yelled in pain, your back arching as Michael's teeth sank deep into the tender skin of your trapezius. The cadence of his hips increased as he revelled in your scream. You tried to push him away with your hands but it was like trying to move a brick wall. The pain radiated throughout your neck and head and you felt something hot dripping down your back.

Your own blood.

“M-Michael, stop…” You whined, overwhelmed by the sensations of pain, pleasure and dizziness .

Michal huffed and sucked at the blood coming from your fresh wound while giving harsher thrusts. You felt like having an animal on you, using, devouring you.

Or a parasite.

 He was so hard inside, that your sweet spot was stimulated again. You moan, feeling drowsy and overstimulated.

His hand clenched and his body shuddered as he came, immobilizing himself deep inside of you. You felt something hot and sticky flooding inside and coating your core, as he rocked his hips some more to prolong his orgasm. You gasped for air as he finally let go of your leg and unfolded slowly like an old origami.

He stayed still for a moment, his cock pulsing against your walls. He inhaled deeply and straightened his back to stare at you.

Was he satisfying himself to see you like this?

You were shaking, wet and bloody on the floor, unable to move. Your heartbeats knocked hard against your ribs and it was the only thing you could hear.

You felt so guilty.

You couldn't believe what just happened.

Michael removed himself and semen oozed out of you like foam out of a bottle of champagne. You noticed blood dripping from the bottom of his mask, coming from his jaw. And if he kind of wiped his -still fully wet- member as he put it back into his boxers, he didn't seem to mind the blood.

You flushed red and rolled your head to the side to avert your gaze.

You caught a glimpse of the dead man's feet peeking behind the doorway. You pursed your lips in shame, realizing that you let Michael do what he wanted despite killing someone a few minutes prior.

What were you now?

Michael's little thing?

Was he your guard dog?

Well it didn't really matter anymore. Because more than that, you were now his accomplice.

Notes:

Well whatever froot your loops Michael

Chapter 10: New skin

Summary:

Michael's jealous

Notes:

Thank you for all the sweet comments!! I hope you'll like this new chapter 💕

“Scalpel”

The surgeon raised his gloved hand in your direction and you put the sterile scalpel in it. He thanked you with a nod of the head and you watched as he gently punctured the abdomen of the patient laying on the operating table.

The room was silent except for the ventilator following the patient's breathing rate and the constant beeping of the heart monitor.

You were drawn by the scalpel. Seeing the skin willingly opening to its touch fascinated you. It looked so easy.

And the blood.

The blood glimmered under the white light of the gigantic lamps of the operating room, like a stream under the moonlight. The guts moved ever so slightly, pulsing life with no conscience. The patient was alive and yet you could see their insides and it felt wrong somehow.

Blood pouring out of the hunter's throat flashed before your eyes. You watched as you saw him on that operating table, blood splattering everywhere, his empty eyes staring at the ceiling.

You didn't move.

“Nurse?”

A faint echo reached your ears and you snapped out of this transe to stare confusedly at the surgeon.

“(Y/N)?” He said with a hint of worry behind his surgical mask, “The forceps?”

You slowly glanced at the instrument he was pointing at and realized that he had been asking you to hand it to him for a while now.

You shook your head, apologized and gave it to him. Your eyes darted towards the operating table and saw that the illusion was gone, as the woman laying there was back into place. 

As the surgeon took the forceps from your hand he stared at you questioningly but you avoided his gaze.

He went back to his surgery and as he burrowed his hands in the body of his patient, he glanced in the direction of a nurse cleaning her hands in the wash room.

“Nurse Jane, would you please replace nurse (Y/N)? She's been here a while, it's time for her to get some rest.” He said without raising his gaze from the organs in front of him.

You frowned as you watched the nurse entering the room and gave the surgeon an annoyed expression.

“I'm fine.” You stated.

He nodded slightly, still without looking at you.

“And still, you've been dissociating since the beginning of the surgery. It's like you're not really here with me.” He answered, raising his eyebrows, “Go get some rest, it's almost the end of your shift anyway.”

You tried to argue but the intense gaze he gave you, dissuaded you from trying anything. You nodded reluctantly and left the room as Jane finished to put on her sterile gloves.

 

---

 

After getting absolutely railed by Michael on the bedroom’s floor, he decided to honor his part of the deal.

He got what he wanted and in return you were left alone.

Grabbing what was left of your clothes, you watched him as he zipped his coveralls up like nothing happened and left the house. He took the time to take the corpse of the man with him, carrying it like it weighed nothing. You didn't know what he wanted to do with it and weren't sure you wanted to know either.

You were left in your empty house, dumbfounded, covered in all kind of body fluids.

You spent the whole night cleaning the debris left by the bullets and scrubbing the blood off the floor. You washed the floor with bleach and scrubbed so hard you thought the wood would come off.

But no matter how hard you tried, you always saw the ghost of a huge blood stain.

This prevented you from calling the police. This was your first thought after Michael left, of course. But what would it look like? Blood on your floor? Michael's sperm as well. Like they would believe that you were a victim. This killer didn't leave any survivor after all. So it would instantly look like you were his accomplice.

This sent you into an even deeper pit of despair. 

You went back to work like nothing happened but were now struggling to get back to reality.

 

---

 

You stared at the cup of coffee in front of you, and the black smoking liquid stared back at you. A few days had passed since Michael left and he still had not come back to your place. The night after the hunter's death, you hesitated to sleep at the hospital because you didn't want to be alone at your house as now any noise made you paranoid. You couldn't stand to be in the living room where he died either as you had auditory hallucinations and felt like you could hear blood dripping somewhere.

But overall you slept…good. You couldn't explain it, maybe because of the lack of serial killer in your surroundings, but you managed to get a good rest.

It was still weird to be back to work and you caught yourself staring in the distance several times -like earlier in the operating room- but life had to go on.

You sighed deeply and warmed your hands around the cup. With a bit of luck Michael was gone for good and found another toy to play with. Maybe you should stop focusing on the past and try to move forward.

And sweep under the carpet that you killed a man? Sure thing. That's an insignificant part of your past after all.

You grunted. The voice was back. And it was bitter, harsh and unforgiving. But what else could you do? Deep down you also selfishly thought that the man deserved it.

You scratched subconsciously the bite mark Michael left you. It was difficult to forget about him when this was the only thing you saw in the mirror when you looked at yourself. You felt like having a red spider on your shoulder at all times, its legs sunken deep in your flesh. Like you were marked and he was monitoring you through it.

 

The door opened and the surgeon walked in, removing his surgical mask. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair. Probably in his late twenties and around Michael's size you would say, which was already a feat. He had been working at the hospital for a while but in your sector for only a week.

You didn't know much about him except that the other nurses kept gushing over how handsome he was.

He stared at you as he circled around the break room to reach the coffee machine. You didn't know what he was doing here as the doctors had their own break room, with an even better coffee.

“So what's all that about, nurse?” He spoke, pouring himself a cup, “Is my surgery not interesting enough?”

Your body stiffened and you stared at him with great concern. You didn't want him to think that. But he shook his head and chuckled.

“I'm kidding.” He waved his hand in a dismissing way, “I heard you took a few days off because you were sick. ‘Must be tough getting back to work immediately after that.”

“I…Um. Yes.” You ended up saying, finding interest in your cup of coffee again, “Sorry about earlier.”

Right. Sick. That's what happened. 

You could feel his gaze on you as you took a small sip of your beverage. It was making you nervous as the only person who stared at you as intensely was Michael.

Why did your thoughts always come back to this monster, you wondered angrily.

“I was tricked, I thought you were in incredible shape when I saw you. Your face had a healthy glow.”

You arched an eyebrow as you thought you rather looked tired but he wasn't actually the first person to say that. Since you came back, you got a lot of people complimenting how good you looked.

“Maybe it's my fault, I shouldn't have asked so early to have you for my surgery.” He sighed with a warm smile.

You frowned and raised your gaze to stare at him. 

He specifically asked for you? Usually, a nurse was assigned automatically when a surgery was to come. It depended on who was available at the time. But asking for a specific nurse was…uncommon.

He was leaning against the wall, his cup in one hand and the other in his pocket. His eyes were fixed on you and you felt that he was trying to decipher your reaction.

“Why me?” You asked.

“I think you're interesting.”

You didn't know what to answer. You never really met him before. You knew his name was Jason. You said hi to him a few times but that was all. You noticed how his eyes shined with something unknown as he stared at you.

You were going to ask him what he found interesting in you but the door opened before the words could leave your mouth. 

“Oh my God (Y/N), Hi!” The night nurse -now on day shift- who provided you with supplies for the animals and who's real name was Bianca, entered the room with her arms wide open, “It's been a while, I missed you!”

Your heart somehow fluttered when she told you that. It had been so long since someone said “I missed you” to you. You smiled timidly and accepted the hug she whole-heartedly offered.

Jason didn't seem too keen to have been interrupted and squinted his eyes slightly. You swore you saw something weird passing through his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a gentle smile.

“I'll leave you girls alone. I have another surgery in fifteen minutes.”

Bianca finally noticed his presence and seemed surprised to find him here. But before she could ask anything, he quickly left the room.

“You were talking to sexy Jason?” She asked with a malicious smile.

Sexy Jason?

You shrugged.

“He just came to ask me if everything was alright.” 

“Well, I wished he would ask me if I were alright.” She pouted, looking falsely jealous, “You obviously look fine.”

“What do you mean?” You scoffed.

“You're glowing. I don't know what you did of your sick leave but ‘looks like you've taken a bath of hydrating cream.”

That comment again. Why was everyone talking about how good your skin looked? You thought you looked tired…maybe on the verge of insanity…

“Well, I didn't do anything special.” You muttered, starting to feel nervous.

You didn't really like people trying to guess what you did of your free time. Especially the last few days. No one would believe you anyway.

You took a deep breath. It was behind you now. Michael surely had other people to bother.

“Why are you here anyway?” You asked to avoid the subject, wincing because your coffee was definitely too bitter.

“I came to ask you if you wanted to go out tonight? The other nurses and I are going to a bar and I thought I'd ask you too.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and a light blush settled on your cheeks. This was unusual. Nobody asked you to go out after work.

“Sure.” You said with a smile.

She grinned back joyfully. You couldn't help but feel uneasy despite the happiness swelling your heart. Why was everyone more friendly now? You were starting to feel paranoid, imagining them somehow now able to read minds.

 

---

 

Bianca left a little bit after and said that she would pick you up at your place. The bar was actually not too far from your home and you wondered if they chose it so it would be easier for you to get home.

Since you finished a few hours before actually leaving, you decided to take the time to dress nicely. You took a shower and searched for the perfect outfit while listening to some music on the radio, in your lace underwear.

You ended up choosing your favourite clothes to go out -which you had not used in a while- which also hid your bite mark well.

It still fitted you and you actually loved what you saw in the mirror. You posed and smiled at an imaginary audience, glad to feel pretty.

As you gathered your stuff into a nicer bag in your living room, you felt a chill run down your spine. The unmistakable feeling of being watched. You were immediately wary and started looking around anxiously.

Michael?

No it couldn't be. He was back on a killing spree like the radio announced during the day. He was busy.

But you couldn't help but feel uneasy. He left you alive after all. Did it mean that he would be back to finish the job? All your senses kicked in and you felt yourself going back to your survival mode.

You were close from the window and could feel that, whoever was watching you, looked through there.

Approaching it cautiously, you took a peek, your hand subconsciously laying on the chandelier near the window still.

Your heart jumped in your chest when a pale face appeared behind the glass. It was Bianca.

“You ready?” She said with a wink, jingling her car keys in her hand.

You sighed and chuckled, the tension in your shoulders disappearing. You didn't hear her car with the radio. 

You didn't know why but you felt somewhat…disappointed. Which was strange. Because having Bianca behind your window at night was the best case scenario. But you quickly shook off this feeling when you grabbed your bag and left the house.

 

---

 

It was a fun night. One you didn't experience in a while. The other nurses were friendly and chatted with you like you had been friends forever. You took a few drinks and when the alcohol kicked in, you danced with them. How long has it been since you went out with friends?

You felt good. But it wasn't the only thing different.

You felt like you attracted eyes tonight. You couldn't tell for sure but you felt like anytime you looked somewhere, there was someone actually watching you. Did you like it? You weren't sure.

 

Eventually a man approached you as you danced. Attractive. With a nice smile and ear piercings. Bianca encouraged you to talk to him. You chatted outside together and he took you by the hand to kiss you against the wall behind the bar's dumpster. It was electrifying. You felt like a whole new person. You weren't forced into a kiss like Michael did. Though, this kiss didn't feel as strong…as powerful as the ones he stole from you. You couldn't explain it.

You didn't feel that slight tickle at the tip of your lips when this stranger kissed you.

 

Bianca came to get you after a while to bring you home. You were glad she was the one driving as you were a bit tipsy now. You didn't see the man for the rest of the night and you wondered if you should have asked for his number.

You laughed in the car with her about the man you met, saying that both of you should go again some time to see if he was still there. It was a fun night and you thanked her for it when she drove away.

 

It was very early in the morning when you passed your doorstep. The night was still here, dark as coal, cold and forever.

You hummed a song you heard in the bar as you removed your shoes and threw them on the floor. At this moment you didn't have a single worry in the world. You felt lightheaded, slightly dizzy because of the alcohol and happy.

What a night.

You removed your clothes and went to the kitchen in your underwear to get some water. It was a bit chilly and you couldn't wait to go under the blanket.

As you drank the delightfully cold water, you glanced at your reflection in the window. You saw the bite mark, still here, looking even more apparent. You stared at it thoughtfully.

Your fingers brushed against it and it felt hot to the touch.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Someone was watching you again.

But Bianca was gone and you were definitely supposed to be alone. Your eyes slowly rose to meet the window again. In the reflection you saw yourself.

And behind you, you saw the ghost of Michael’s pale mask.

Your heart pounded inside your chest as you stared into the empty eye sockets. You didn't know when and how he got inside your house. It wasn't like it was surprising, he somehow always found a way inside your home.

But something was different.

You could feel it in the air. 

Killing impulses oozed out of Michael like oil from an overfilled can. But whatever filled the room at this moment was way more powerful. It was almost suffocating.

You slowly turned around and leaned against the kitchen counter. The alcohol helped as you weren't as scared of him as before. Though, your legs still grew weak at the sight of him.

“What do you want?” You asked, “I thought you had enough of me.”

Michael, as expected, stayed silent. But it felt as if that even if he talked to begin with, he wouldn’t have answered anything anyway. You were surprised by the dull and sinister feeling coming from him. You were curious though, as you now knew that he wanted to keep you alive.

“Why do you keep coming back? You obviously need to kill. Did you also get a taste in torturing me too?” You muttered, crossing your arms.

Michael stepped forward slowly. Something shined in the corner of your eyes and you saw that he was holding a knife. Your heart stopped beating. It was covered in blood and dripping on your floor. Even though you were pretty sure that he found you useful enough to keep you alive, deep rooted fear still clawed its way to your guts.

He was now about two feet away from you. You struggled to swallow. You forgot each time how tall and muscular he was. You cursed yourself for thinking that he was attractive despite being an immense creep. But when you glanced at his broad shoulders, his prominent chest and…you stopped on his hips and blushed slightly. Well…and other things. It was hard for you to ignore him, and even more with a few drinks in.

Michael still had not tried anything and his deep breathing was the only thing you heard. His gaze on you was intense. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was a survival instinct, but you wanted him to kiss you…and eventually fuck you. That's why he came here for anyway, right? That was the only thing bringing him here.

Fucking you over and over.

Michael suddenly fumbled in his pocket and got something out. You couldn't see well what it was as his hand was too big. He threw it on the floor and it landed in front of your feet with a wet noise.

You didn't understand what it was at first but when you leaned forward and took a good look at it, all color drained from your cheeks and a small yelp escaped your lips.

It was an ear.

A human ear, neatly sliced at the base.

It also had…piercings.

He saw you at the bar.

You thought that man had gone somewhere, but Michael actually took him after you left and surely killed him.

A strangled noise came out of your throat and you tried to get away from it in disgust. But Michael grabbed you by the arm and pulled you towards him forcefully. When his hand wrapped around your forearm, you felt the rage pooling at his fingertips. He was furious. That was what you felt when he entered the room. It was like smelling burning wood in a chimney.

 

His hand grabbed your chin and you were forced to look at him. His eye was so dark that you could barely distinguish it in the shadows of the mask.

Fear taking over you, your breathing fastened as your heart pounded in your chest.

“I-I’m not your girlfriend!” You shouted, unable to move, “Why do you care who I'm hooking up with!”

The grip he had on your jaw was so strong that you could barely talk. You could see veins angrily pulsing on his neck, the only thing revealing his current mind state.

As an answer, Michael brought the knife in front of you and you hiccuped. You saw the knife piercing through your skin in your mind. But he merely slid it under the strap of your bra to cut it with one swift movement of the hand, making you shudder. Then, he brushed the flat of the blade on the bite mark and tilted his head on the side as he did.

He put the tip just under it and started tracing a word, with such dexterity that it didn't even pierce the skin.

M-I-N-E

The lower part of the “E” let out a small drop of blood and the word appeared as your skin swelled. You shakily stared at him, not knowing what to say.

That was what the bite mark meant. He made that very clear. And you understood why he kept you alive. Why he kept coming back. Michael didn't have a girlfriend. 

He owned one.

And by forgetting that you were his for one night, he was going to make sure you remember well next time.

You shrieked when he threw you against a nearby wall. Your back hit it hard enough for you to have your breath taken away. Michael immediately pressed his body against yours and wrapped his massive fingers around your throat. You gasped, panic taking over you. You could barely move.

You realized after a few seconds that he wasn't crushing your throat but rather, held your neck into place against the wall, and you stared at him in confusion.

He approached his mask and pressed it against your face. The plastic squeaked against your skin and you jerked your head away.

What the hell was he doing?

You couldn't see his eyes. You tried to decipher anything, a clue maybe, but only met darkness.

Michael reiterated that strange movement and something in your mind lighted up. You groaned, the plastic unpleasantly sticking to your face.

“Y-you want me to kiss you?” You asked, trying to pull his fingers away.

Just like I kissed that guy, you thought.

As an answer, he tightened his grip on your throat and you whined.

“Fine, fine! I'll do it!” You gargled.

You hoped that this would make him let go but he only eased the pressure. He wasn't going to be nice this time. No deal.

Seeing you kissing someone else might not have left him indifferent. If he was capable of feeling, then jealousy was what he felt. Envy even. Because you kissed that man willingly.

Because you weren't scared when you did.

You felt pity for him. By ordering you to kiss him, he hoped to touch something he could never have.

Love. If he even knew what it was.

Struggling to swallow, you raised your arms and grabbed the bottom of the mask gently. You wondered if you were the first one to uncover this part. If you were the first one to touch the mask at all.

 Michael's body tensed up but otherwise, he stayed impassive. His grip on you didn't waver. He waited.

You pulled the bottom to reveal his lips and jaw. You didn't dare to pull it further. You could see the familiar scars but not even his nose.

Slowly, as much as his hand allowed it, you leaned forward and your lips met. You couldn't describe the thing you felt but it sent an electric shock throughout your whole body. There was something so intimate about removing the mask to kiss him that you almost forgot he had you in a choke hold.

Michael leaned in to deepen the kiss and moved his lips along with you. Your eyelids fluttered, his body heat radiating through your naked body. Your heart seemed to be willing to escape your ribcage and butterflies nested in your stomach.

 This had nothing to do with what you felt earlier at the bar.

What did Michael have that made your body react in such a way?

You moaned when his tongue slid in, parting your lips so easily. Your hot breaths mingled and you melted under his touch, unable to resist him.

Michael placed his knee between your legs and applied a soft pressure to your crotch. You moaned, enslaved by his body as his hand still kept you into place.

Apparently, being slammed against a wall didn't make you less drunk and you now were very keen to be railed again.

Michael crushed his lips against yours, getting more ferocious with time. Dizziness overtook your senses and you answered each of his kiss with even more passion.

You felt like he wanted to erase any trace the other man -may he rest in peace- might have left. You also felt like he wasn't going to forgive you easily as the knife was still in his hand.

At this point, you were starting to wet his knee, with only the thin fabric of your underwear to catch your slick. Your horniness overpowering your fear, you took the zipper of his coveralls and started to pull it.

You were ashamed to give in so easily.

Ashamed to see that hating him wasn't enough.

But that's what he wanted right? He wanted you to give in. And it was so hard for you to resist the influence he had on your body.

Michael suddenly yanked your hand away from his clothes and you shuddered when he broke the kiss. He took a deep breath and the hand on your throat twitched.

You were scared for an instant that you did something wrong. You glanced at the hand holding the knife and saw it shaking because of how hard he gripped it. You wondered if anytime he touched you, anytime he watched you, he still fantasized about killing you.

Finally, he let go of your throat and put back the mask on his face. As he removed his knee, you thought that he was going to leave. What better punishment at this moment than to leave you frustrated?

But that wasn't the Michael way.

Grabbing you by the waist, he threw you on the nearby sofa. You let out a protesting “what” before bouncing back on the cushions. Well, at least that was far more comfortable than the wall.

When you managed to stabilize yourself, you pushed with your palms on the sofa to get back up but were instantly shoved back, face down, into it by Michael's large hand in your hair. You yelped and tried to resist his grip but froze when you felt him positioning himself behind you.

He wasn't going to…

“Michael! You…”

You didn't have time to finish. He applied even more pressure on your head, shoving your face into the cushion, bending you down while keeping your ass up. You felt something cold on your ass and shuddered. Your underwear slid down your thigh and you understood that he cut it with his knife.

You were now butt naked, ass up with no dignity whatsoever.

Michael placed his hips against your rear, leaning above you to keep your head down. You could feel the heat of his erection against you as he obviously took a malicious pleasure to see you at his mercy. When you heard the whirring sound of his zipper going down, you tensed up. You tried to resist but he was so strong that you might as well fight iron shackles.

This was so humiliating.

He knew that.

In a last attempt to make him stop, you managed to place your head sideway to free your mouth, “Michael, stop that.” You whined, throwing your arms back to grab him -and eventually make him let go of you-

You heard something metallic hitting a glass surface and when you glanced down you saw that he had dropped his knife on the coffee table. There was a silence and you wondered what he was doing.  His now free hand slapped your ass with such force that it echoed through the whole room. You shrieked, pain and heat radiating through your rear as your back arched. He didn't do it lightly, this hurt like hell. You shut your eyes tightly and groaned, trying to ignore the pain. But Michael pulled your ass back up, not leaving you time to rest. Pulling his hard, throbbing cock out of his pants, he grinded against your wet cunt and the wet noises it made, had your face flushed red.

Was it his way to punish you?

Humiliating you with both your current stance and your unrestrained horniness? Well, it was working.

In any case, you knew that he was enjoying it greatly considering the hardness of his member. He leaned forward and his stomach brushed against your back. Looking down, you could see his cock bobbing free between your legs and you felt his fingers tracing the edges of the handprint he left and which was blossoming at the surface of your skin.

“You're proud of yourself, huh.” You muttered, half of your face in the cushion. Your back was starting to hurt from the constant strain of being pushed down by the back of your head.

As an answer, Michael gripped your hips, fingers digging in your tender skin and pulled on your hair. You moaned, your head painfully thrown back, which made your back arch even more. You regretted your words. Without warning -or maybe it was one-, Michael shoved his dick inside of you with one skillful hip thrust. It perfectly glided in, your pussy wet enough to welcome his girth without complaining. Your mouth gaped open and a shiver of pleasure ran through your whole body when he hit the bottom. He nested there, pulling you closer to reach even deeper, a hoarse sigh escaping his lips. It didn't make him lighten his grip though.

Your back trembled from the uncomfortable position it was in, muscles twitching, but you couldn't deny the delightful feeling of fullness it granted. Michael leaned in, his head reaching the side of your face and you could now hear his deep, steady, breathing. In the corner of your eyes, he was watching you, eager to not miss a thing. His eyes were still on you, and his hand was still gripping your hair tightly when he started thrusting.

You let out a pitiful moan as this position allowed him to go deeper inside of you. Your neck stretched backwards, making it harder for you to swallow. Spit dripped from your mouth, down your throat, and Michael watched with great interest. His hips hit your rear with strength and he watched each of your shuddering, each of your expressions in silence. The wet slaps of skin meeting skin sounded so nasty to your ears but there was nothing you could do against it.

You were back as Michael's little play toy.

His rough fingers came to tug on your nipple, drawing a soft moan from your lips, your clit throbbing at the sensation. Michael gave your breasts more attention, ramming into you as your pussy squeezed him tighter. But your clit was begging for friction, for touch, swelling with envy, which Michael seemed to deny. You were desperate to come at this point, your slick dripping down your legs. Each of his thrusts went so deep inside of you, triggering each time strong shots of pleasure, which could never find a release. You approached your hand from your groin, in an attempt to get the attention your clit seeked.

But Michael suddenly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and smacked it on your back, painfully bending your arm and shoulder in the process. You cried out in pain, and as you struggled under him, he managed to catch your other wrist and trap it in his gigantic hand. Both your hands were now tightly squeezed behind your back by his single grip and he pushed your head back down. The message was clear.

You weren't allowed to touch yourself.

A frustrated, muffled moan escaped your lips as Michael fucked you harder into the sofa, his thick cock heartlessly stretching your swollen walls. He exhaled deeply against your ear, tilting his head with curiosity as you tried to drown the dirty noises coming from you, in the softness of the cushion below your head. 

Your arms hurt from the hard strain he had on your wrists but you could barely feel it with the pounding of his dick deep inside you. It felt so good. You couldn't believe how far he went inside you, pistoning you into submission. Your hair covered your face almost entirely, his huge hand keeping you into place, on your drool soaked cushion.

The constant pressure on your sweet spot, combined with the humiliating posture, sent you on edge. What a sight you must have been. Michael's cock almost seemed in perpetual growth, hardening with each thrust. Oh, he was enjoying the sight alright.

 Your cunt clenched and throbbed around him, trying to accommodate the metal rod he had instead of a dick. You were drunk, or fuck-drunk, you weren't sure anymore. But you could hear yourself moaning his name, like a prayer, uncontrollable and unashamed.

It was shameless. Because Michael liked that. You could feel it in the hardening of his cock, in the way his right hand gripped your wrists tighter, in the way his left hand twitched on your head. 

And understanding that was too much for you. A low, dull, orgasm started building up deep inside your core, worked up by each of his thrusts. As your walls tightened and squeezed his length, the pressure increased and you felt him slowing down as it was getting harder for him to move. Your untouched clit whimpered but focused on the stroking inside, stubborn, and definitely willing to come.

 A breathy moan escaped your lips when you came, as the sensation filled you up, coming like waves. You tensed up under his grip, your tied hands trembling.

And Michael watched.

You could hear his deep breathing against your ear, loud and controlled, as his massive body hovered above you. His single eye, in the shadows of his mask, was fixed on you as you trembled under him, as you drooled on your sofa, as your pussy sucked him in eagerly. His satisfaction was almost palpable.

“Michael…” You hummed in your post orgasmic state, trying to catch your breath.

His fingers on your wrists suddenly sunk in your skin and you whimpered, feeling the bloodflow in your veins dwindle. After a few strong, bone rattling, hip thrusts, he immobilized inside of you -so deep that his pubic hair kissed your soaked-wet entrance- and you felt his hot load flooding your core. A low growl came out of his mouth as his grip tightened and he pressed his chest against your back. Despite the pain radiating throughout your arms, neck and wrists, you lost yourself in the warmth of his body and the sound of his heartbeats, and hummed quietly at the sensation.

He stilled against you and you could feel his strained dick pulsating inside. He finally let go of your wrists and you moaned painfully, gradually trying to get the control of your numb limbs back. His other hand stayed on your head and you wondered if it was safe for you to try to stand up. His dick was still inside you after all. Michael seemed to slowly get back to reality after his climax, as you could only hear his heavy breathing, in this now too quiet room.

After a few seconds, he inhaled deeply and pulled out with a wet squelch. You realized how wet your thighs and butt were when cold air hit your skin.

Despite being finished, Michael kept his hand on your head and grasped a few locks of hair to pull you up. You yelped in surprise but followed his movement as your sensitive body now amplified the smallest amount of pain. You sat up, struggling to swallow, and he forced you to look at him. You stared lethargically at his expressionless mask, your naked body shivering in the cold, and even if he was holding you like a fresh dead prey after a hunt, you still had the urge to kiss him. Your heart was still hammering in your chest. You disgusted yourself. But you couldn’t help it.

He didn’t say anything, he simply stared back at you as he held you firmly. But you understood.

There was only him.

No one else.

And you were his.

You pursed your lips in dismay but nodded like his silence had been words. He tilted his head on the side,maybe in approval, and you felt his hot breath through the mask on your face. Then, perhaps seeing your willpower breaking in your eyes, he let go of your hair and threw you on the sofa without further notice. 

You managed to grab the edges to avoid falling off and were glad that your blood was back in your hands. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the coffee table and saw how disheveled you were, how submissive you looked, naked and slightly hunched because of the pain.

You were pathetic.

But seeing your slick covering both your thighs and his pants made it even worse.

You liked how he fucked you.

You hated him for that.

You watched him zipping up his coveralls and, picking up his knife, he seemed to notice the glare you gave him as he turned slightly in your direction. You looked up in anger, your fingers gripping the sofa tightly.

“At this point you should just kill me.” You said in a low voice.

Michael stared at you in silence and your gaze drifted towards the knife. You were scared, yes…But wasn’t it scarier to keep living like this?

More than his accomplice, what did this make of you? He would come, he would fuck you, you would love it and he would leave. He controlled your life and you were helpless. You were his thing, his toy, a fly on his spider web.

You didn’t know what to do.

What choice did you have left?

You stared at him, hoping for an answer that would never come. Michael stood there motionless, and you wondered if maybe, just maybe, he considered your words. You knew that deep down, he dearly desired to kill you. But he would never grant your wish…at least not for now.

He turned around slowly and opened the back door before walking out of your house, disappearing in the night that would soon turn into dawn.

Then ‘guess you’ll have to kill him , the little voice said in the back of your head.

 

Notes:

Haha what a bastard <3

Chapter 11: The spider eats

Summary:

The spider has a double meal

Notes:

Sorry for the long pause :) I was on a big vacation! But I couldn't stop thinking about this fic (or Michael) and I had ideas I wanted to write down...Hope you'll like this chapter! October is almost here you know what that means...

You dropped the box of medical supplies on the floor and pushed it against the others. The supply room was cluttered with different kinds of boxes as well as medical instruments so you did your best to get that last box out of the way for your upcoming colleagues.

Standing up, you moaned in pain and stretched your back.

Your whole body was so sore.

Michael might be gone but he made sure that you would not forget him the following days.

Your back and neck hurt from the rough treatment and you had to wear a long sleeved cardigan over your nurse dress to cover the bruises on your wrists.

“Damn you, Michael…” You muttered angrily as you put another box above the one you just pushed.

Last night was something. Despite it all, it was the best sex you had in a while but you would never admit it. Michael was getting the hang of it and learning how to please you.

Which was bad.

Really bad.

Why would he do that anyway? You found yourself daydreaming about sex several times today. You should be thinking about the poor victims he slaughtered every day and every night…But instead, all you could think about was how big his hands were on your body, how tightly he held you, how strong he felt under your fingertips.

How hard his…

You shook your head in dismay and furiously pushed a box against the wall as its content rattled. You had to clear your head and forget about him. He surely didn't think about you outside of your little sex activities anyway. But above all, you didn’t know why you were so attracted to him. Was it some kind of survival instinct? Was it because you felt “special”, simply because he didn’t kill you? That was messed up. You had to put a stop to this.

 

You left the supply room and went back to the nurse's office. Just as you sat back on your chair behind the reception desk, you saw a pile of newspapers settled next to the phone -which the delivery person must have dropped- and grabbed a paper. The headline started like this:

“The Haddonfield killer on a killing spree, the police continues to investigate.”

You sighed and pursed your lips. You were so self focused that you forgot you weren’t the one suffering the most here. You couldn’t help but feel bad for the Haddonfield folks. After all, you were the one who helped him when he was supposed to die. You continued to read, despite the lump forming in your throat.

“ New victims discovered this morning, two young women who were killed a few hours prior. They were butchered with a kitchen knife and placed conspicuously on the doorstep of their families. The Police suspects serial killer Michael Myers,currently on the run. ”

Your eyes narrowed as you read the assumed time of death of the victims. It was around the time Michael came to your place yesterday night, or rather very early this morning. He did kill someone before coming but it was a man. Did he also have time to kill two other people, place them on their doorstep and make his way to your place? Something didn’t sit right. You frowned and turned the pages to see if there was more information.

“Are you interested in serial killers?” The low voice of Jason spoke behind you.

You shuddered and almost dropped your newspaper. You didn’t hear him coming. He was leaning forward above your shoulder, a few inches behind you, to check what you were reading. You quickly closed the paper and put it back on the pile.

“N-Not really.” You stuttered, your heart pounding in your chest, “I was checking the news.”

He nodded and gave you a warm, reassuring smile. You noticed why the other nurses liked him. He was handsome.

“I see.” He said, “Michael Myers, huh?” He pointed to his picture in a corner of the newspaper, “Scary guy.”

You glanced at the black and white picture showcasing a very blurred picture of what you assumed was Michael Myers -if the white dot was his mask and the darker blob below, his coveralls- and tried to act normal.

“Sure is.”

You squeezed your hands together to stop them from shaking. This was making you nervous. You felt like anyone could see that you were close to Michael Myers and you didn’t know how to act anymore. The bite mark on your shoulder started burning up.

“He could be anywhere. Might even be one of our patients. After all, he is always wearing that mask.” Jason continued, turning his face in your direction.

You swallowed your spit with difficulty and your eyes met. His gaze was intense and you felt like he was trying to decipher your emotions. Did he suspect something? His eyes were soft but shined with something unknown.

“Crazy to think that, huh?” You replied.

You stared back at him with a neutral expression. You weren’t going to let that secret through that easily. You already had death looming over you…Prison was something you would rather avoid as well.

His eyes traveled on your face, looking for something that wasn’t there.

“Aren’t you scared?”

You shrugged and took the pile of newspaper before taping it against the desk to even the edges.

“I have other things to worry about.”

Like finding a way to either make Michael stop coming to your place or get rid of him…permanently, the voice whispered.

You didn’t want to get to that of course. Even if this thought also crossed your mind last night. You weren’t a killer.

“Say…Jason…” You asked, turning your chair in his direction to stare at him.

The surgeon, who was checking the patients’ list, stared back at you questioningly. You pursed your lips then exhaled deeply.

“...Did you ever happen to kill someone?”

There was a silence where his eyebrows rose significantly in great surprise.

“You mean on the operating table?”

You nodded silently.

“I know, it’s a weird question.”

Jason scratched the back of his head, intrigued.

“Well, I guess it’s still a rightful one. It happened a few times, yeah.” He said with a sad smile, “Not that I wanted to. Sometimes the patient is too weak to handle the surgery and I end up killing them instead of saving their life. That’s the hard truth of being a surgeon.”

You nodded again and lowered your gaze to stare at your hands.

“And…” You twiddled your fingers nervously as you spoke, “Did it ever happen to you outside the hospital?”

You didn’t dare to raise your eyes but you could feel his heavy gaze on you now. It was highly suspicious coming from you but you hoped that he would think it was only curiosity. It took him a long time to answer which was making you even more anxious.

“Heaven no.” Jason ended up answering, followed by a loud laugh, “I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I’m nothing without my scalpel.”

A nervous grin stretched your lips.

“Forget I said that. It was weird.” You said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Jason nodded and chuckled lightly.

“I can’t blame you for being curious. But it was weird.”

He was teasing you, of course. But you regretted asking him that. He was now staring at you way too much when he thought you weren’t looking.

 

---

 

Michael

 

The shape stood straight, towering the man in front of him with all his height. The room was lit up by the quivering blue light of the broken television on the floor. The man kicked it in a vain attempt to escape.

Vain attempt indeed.

He breathed loudly, his gaze fixed on the knife sunken deep inside the fat stomach of the man, pinned to his old armchair with it. Blood bubbled out of his mouth and out of the wound, his empty eyes fixed on where the television first sat. He was freshly dead. The shape just killed him.

What a sight for him.

He had been stalking him for hours. He didn’t notice his presence once. 

When the night started to fall, Michael made his way to Haddonfield. Like a silent shadow, he moved among the houses, aimless and yet with purpose. Who would be his victim tonight? No one knew. Not even him.

What a delight.

What picked his interest was a house, with a single lit up window. Blue light came out of it, light from a television, he knew.

As he approached said window, he saw a man sitting in his armchair, his back facing him, watching something in almost total darkness. Only the top of his head appeared. Michael tilted his head on the side and stood idly next to the window. What a strange feeling. Watching someone watching something. Maybe ironic. But Michael didn't really consider those kinds of things. Irony was a concept he didn’t quite grab.

The spider watched.

It monitored the fly which just landed on its web. Or maybe, it was the fly which was here to begin with and the spider only wrapped its web in silence around it. It didn't really matter. The trap was set and the spider waited.

 

---

 

Time flew without the spider or the fly noticing. Michael liked to play with his food. After all, in a way, it was food . He fed on its inability to notice him, to see the mandibles dangling above its head. He fed on its fear, the one yet to come, on hope, on vulnerability....

When the spider had enough, and felt that the time was right, the night was already settled. It managed to get in, in the way spiders only know how to, using the imperfections and holes in a house.

The fly buzzed but never saw it coming.

 

Michael cocked his head on the side, taking a better look at his masterpiece. The man looked like a broken, thwarted puppet. His eyes looked like two glass balls, reflecting the blue light without life. His mouth opened slightly, a thin stream of blood pouring out of it. When the hunt was done, Michael liked to observe it.

The absence of life.

The nothingness.

He inhaled deeply.

The void absorbed anything which remotely looked like an emotion, leaving him like an empty shell. But not like a shell is empty without its shellfish…More like how empty a shell is and yet still filled with moving water. What’s empty for the shell isn’t empty for the ocean. And you still hear the sea when that shell is pressed against your ear.

Did Michael feel something at that moment? Even he couldn't tell.

His one functioning eye wandered on the lifeless body, appreciating the knife embedded in the skin, and stopped on the unbuttonned pants of the man. He paused, and after a while, turned slowly in the direction of the television, which was still working despite the huge cracks on the screen.

“Aaah, oh my god, this feels so good!” The woman wailed behind the screen, her voice slightly distorted, “Go faster!”

Michael tilted his head on the side with curiosity. He watched the woman pressing the head of the man against her bare cunt as he licked her almost desperately. A pornography movie. The broken television showed the same loop of the scene, trying to do what it was originally doing before falling to its demise.

He observed the woman through the screen. He observed the man.

“Aaah, oh my God, this feels so good!” The woman cried again, her voice even more distorted.

He stood there silently, blue light reflecting on his pale mask.

 

---

 

You woke up in the middle of the night, sweaty and confused. You had a dream, you knew that, but you weren't able to truly remember what it was.

The spider again. You remembered its blood gorged eyes.

You rolled over in your bed, moaning slightly, not fully awake yet. You glanced at your small clock on the bedside table. Three in the morning. You buried your face in the pillow with the satisfaction of someone who knows they still have plenty of time to sleep.

But something was strange.

You were terribly sleepy, your eyes closing on their own. But somehow, something in the back of your mind was awake and sending you small signals. Warnings.

You learned to trust your instincts these days.

You groaned and reluctantly got your head out from under the blanket. The room was immersed in darkness, with only the moon drawing a thin ray of white light on the floorboards. Though you couldn't see well, something in the shape of the thin line of light didn't sit right. Irregularities. Something the shadows of the floorboards couldn't make. You focused your gaze and after a little while you saw it.

The tip of big boots piercing through the edge of the light.

Though your heart jumped in your chest, you weren't panicking yet. You blinked a few times, still very sleepy.

“Michael…?” You muttered.

Silence.

Yep, it was definitely Michael.

Your eyes got accustomed to the darkness and you could fathom his white mask staring at you. You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply. This man….He had to stalk you in your sleep now. Maybe that was his new favorite game. You shivered thinking that it might not be the first time he did that.

 You were definitely too tired for his shenanigans right now anyway.

You rested your head on the pillow and closed your eyes.

“It's three in the morning…Go to sleep…if you even sleep.”

You finally heard his deep breathing and the floorboards creaking, telling you that he had moved in your direction. At this point you didn't care if he watched you sleep. As long as he didn't stay too close to you. What did he want anyway? You were definitely not going to do anything. 

 Half asleep, you managed to understand that he was now in front of your bed, his breathing deep and controlled. You heard a strange noise, like rubber being pulled and stretched. When that noise stopped, you heard a rubbery thump next to your bed and opened your eyes slightly. You couldn't see anything of course. But something did catch your gaze. A white thing on the ground, flat, with eyes and a mouth.

Michael's mask.

You frowned. What the hell was he doing?

Despite the fatigue clinging to your eyes, you motioned to sit up on your elbows. But you were suddenly pulled by your feet towards the end of the bed. You let out a surprised yelp as Michael threw the blanket away. You couldn't see him but you heard him kneeling on the ground: shift of clothes followed by two consecutive loud thuds.

Dizzy, you raised your head in hope to see what he was doing. But you could only fathom a large shadow in the shape of a man in front of you. But compared to other times, you could see a few strands of hair. His huge hands brushed against your legs and grabbed your underwear before pulling them down.

“What…what are you…? You breathed, trying to get up once again, your heart pounding in your chest.

Michael threw your underwear somewhere and his hands wrapped around your thighs, at the junction where your hip and legs connected. You shuddered when he abruptly pulled you towards him, his fingers digging in your tender flesh. It was difficult for you to grasp reality, as your mind was still wrapped in the arms of slumber. But his hot breath on your bare cunt and his tight grip on your thighs slightly pulled you out of it.

Was he really going to…?

You panted, unsure about the right thing to do. You wished you could see something but you could only focus on the sensations and roughly guess what he was doing.

Michael seemed to observe -could he actually see something in the dark?- what he had in front of him as his breath was still close to your skin and his hands twitched slightly higher up. You caught a glimpse of him tilting his head slightly on the side and after a few seconds, a hotter breath reached you. His lips brushed against your thigh, and it made your heart jump in your chest. He didn't kiss it but instead, dragged his bottom lip slowly against it. It wasn't like he seemed hesitant, but it felt more like he was a dog looking where to bite, which made you shiver.

His face hovered above your crotch, unmoving for a moment, as his breath didn't move. He inhaled deeply, breathing in your heady scent. Then, his flattened tongue suddenly slided along your slit, tracing the inside of it. Your back arched at the sensation of the slick texture running up and down your seam as you let out a surprised “ah”.

 That was new.

And you didn't know how you felt about Michael being so close to your secret garden. Or finding out that this was something he was into. Where did this come from? What did this say about him? 

Was this all a dream?

 He licked and sucked hungrily your vulva, lips and tongue working around your clit intensely. You felt hunger, you felt a craving for you, in the way his mouth ate you, in the way his hands dug deeper in your skin. You tried to close your legs, listening to your instinct which whispered that you shouldn't let this go on. But his hands forcefully kept them open, if not spreading them even further apart. You whined, embarrassed by this brutal violation of privacy.

Michael didn't have time for that, as always. Grabbing your thighs firmly, he lifted your ass to get, what you assumed was, a better taste of you. His tongue ventured in, wiggling between your lips, before pushing and flicking at your already wet walls, deep inside.

“Ah, Michael!” You blurted out unexpectedly, your head tipping backwards. You felt yourself rolling your hips subconsciously, chasing the pleasure building up inside.

This felt good. Too good. Your clit was already throbbing with need. Maybe because you actually couldn't see him, or maybe it was because it was the first time he did that to you.

But it was hot.

It was sexy.

It made your heart hammer against your ribcage to feel him hungry for you.

He firmly held you against his face, his tongue catching your slick that was starting to run down his jaw. You could hear him swallowing, pressing his mouth harder against you. He seemed rather enthusiast, if he wasn’t worshipping your sex, even. He inhaled deeply, enjoying your sour taste. Eating someone out had never been a truer saying.

This man was devouring your cunt.

You gasped for air when he changed his position slightly to play with your clit. He licked it like a cherry on top of whipped cream, and when you thought you could rest, his mouth took over mercilessly, wrapping, sucking at your vulnerable clit.

You whined, burying your hand in Michael’s hair. Your bottom lip got caught between your lips as mortification overwhelmed you. You were really enjoying it too much for your own sanity. 

Your butt didn’t touch the mattress anymore, as Michael lifted it effortlessly. His hungry mouth gave no respite and your head was starting to spin. You heard him swallowing, drinking from you alike from the holiest of grails. And despite the darkness, you could feel his eye on you, watching, observing your every move. You were so confused. What did he get from this?

A muted sound erupted from your lips when you came. Your hand trembled, still tangled in Michael’s hair. You hummed, your hips moved on their own, chasing the last bits of pleasure. Michael exhaled deeply, swallowing your release with both ease and appetite, his hands gripping your flesh even tighter.

“E-Enough…” You whimpered, as he didn’t seem willing to stop tasting you.

His tongue still traveled your spent cunt, making you shudder each time it brushed your clit. You felt like he was a wolf, licking the marrow off the inside of a bone.

Disgusted, you tried to fight his grip and move your hips away from his face. After a little while of struggling -and probably in annoyance- Michael let go of you, dropping you neglectfully on the mattress.. You panted and heard Michael shamelessly wiping off your slick with his sleeve. You retreated your legs towards you, your heart beating in your chest, still groggy from your unexpected climax.

You still couldn’t see him, only fathom his shape in the shadows. He didn’t move and stayed on his knees. He was staring at you and there was something unnerving about the fact he didn’t have his mask. Maybe because he never stayed that long before without it. Maybe because it reassured you in a way, to not know who he was.

But you felt seen. Overwhelmingly seen.

“What…do you want from me?”

Your words escaped your trembling lips in a breath.

It was so…troubling. His behaviour was sporadic. There was no reason for him to come again and again, and fuck you again and again…And even more, his weird way of being so intimate with you to be so cold and distant the second after, was driving you insane.

You just didn’t know where to stand with him. Day, or night, he didn’t allow you any rest. You were his favorite toy, and you didn’t know why.

Silence filled the room, as you knew he wouldn’t answer. But maybe because his mask, his barrier, was not on his face anymore, you could feel that he considered your words.

You felt that deep inside, he didn’t know why he was doing this. Michael Myers acted on impulses, on murderer instincts. And somehow he seemed to listen to some part of his brain telling him to come to you.

And it was even more frightening -to you or to him you didn’t know- to understand he didn’t know where those impulses came from or why he desperately acted on them..

 

Notes:

Thank you for reading <3
Comments and kudos always appreciated!

Chapter 12: What the fly wants

Summary:

Michael has specific tastes

Notes:

Thank you for the sweet comments! I'm glad to see we are all equally unhinged <3

Michael 

 

She got home and dropped her car keys on the console table negligently. She was tired after a long day of work, as women often were after fighting all day against the judgment of trivial men in addition to their regular work-related tasks. She was so tired she didn’t even have the strength to cook for herself.

She was so tired, she didn’t notice the backdoor was open.

She climbed the staircase while yawning, eager to find herself back in the arms of her comfortable bed. As she walked along the corridor, she noticed a door slightly closing as she got closer. Confused, she carefully approached the room and as she peeked through the opening, she saw that one of her windows was open, a light breeze coming through it.

The wind moved the door.

That’s what she told herself to feel a semblance of reassurance.

 She was tired, yes. But it didn’t completely numb her primal instinct telling her that something wasn’t right. Still, she got into her nightgown and decided that she would check tomorrow if the window was broken.

As she rested her head on the pillow and slowly drifted towards a deep slumber, the chilling sound of silence filled the room, punctuated only by the soft padding of Michael Myers’ boots against the floorboards. 

 

---

 

 The sound of your heels echoed as you quickly walked down the empty hallway. Looking through a window, you saw how dark it was outside. You just clocked in and it had been a while since you had a night shift. But one of the nurses was absent and since the hospital was in desperate need of staff, they asked if you could replace her.

Of course,since you wanted to avoid Michael at all cost, you said yes.

You stopped in front of the patient list and took a look at it. 

“Oh, night shift for you, huh?” You heard the voice of Bianca behind you.

You turned around and smiled.

‘It’s not that bad. Are you also here for the night?”

She shook her head and stood next to you to also stare at the board on the wall.

“Nu-hu. I was just leaving.” Her eyes travelled on the different plannings and one of her eyebrows rose, “Oh there is a night surgery planned. Looks like it’s urgent.” Her eyes stopped on the names next to it and she cocked her head on the side in surprise, “Well, would you look at that. You’re scheduled to assist the surgeon. Guess who it is.”

You blushed slightly and sighed.

“Jason?”

She rolled her eyes.

“You’re his favorite, I’m so jealous. He always picks you for the surgeries…”

You stared at your name just below his, thoughtfully.

“I guess we get along well…”

You had no idea why though. He always seemed eager to have you in the surgery room with him. At least it wouldn’t be a boring night shift. It was rather informative and Jason always indulged you with pieces of information on what he was doing. And he wasn't condescending, as other surgeons were.

Bianca leaned on the side to check the corridor and saw that the red light of the surgery room was lit up.

“He’s already in. I think you can join him when you’re ready.”

You thanked her and exchanged a warm goodbye before leaving for the changing room. After putting on your sterile garment, you quietly entered the surgery room. Jason was already working on the patient, his bloody gloves moving inside his body. He raised his head and his eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Ah! Y/N, I was waiting for you.”

You carefully approached, your eyes fixed on the person sleeping on the operating table. Still now, you felt a weird feeling while looking at blood. Like you could suddenly hear your own rushing in your ears, like a hole was swallowing your insides.

You tried to ignore that strange sensation and took place beside the surgeon.

“What happened to him?” You asked.

Jason clamped something with a needle holder which made a squelching noise.

“Knife wound.” He said flatly.

A lump formed in your throat. You didn’t want to ask for more information as you already knew the answer. But maybe he took your silence for an invitation because he continued.

“I don’t have many more details. The police told me that they suspected Michael Myers to be the author of this slaughter, the patient only survived because someone shot the agressor before he could finish the job.”

Somehow, your heart jumped and you stared at the pile of guts in front of you mechanically.

“Is the agressor…dead?”

Jason shook his head without looking at you.

“Nah. The person missed. But it was enough to scare off the guy.”

You exhaled shakily, releasing the pressure built up in your chest. Did you feel disappointed?

Or relieved?

You didn’t like how uncertain you felt about it.

Your eyes followed Jason’s hands, fumbling between the guts and soft tissus. The deep crimson hues glistened under the light and you were once again caught by its mesmerizing beauty.

“Suction, please.” Jason muttered, looking through a magnifying glass to help him find the vein he was looking for.

You took the sucition instrument and as you put it just under his needle holder, it started sucking the blood around it with loud, gurgling, noises. It was faint, but you caught a glimpse of Jason smiling with satisfaction.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

Taken aback by his words, you frowned.

“What?”

“All this blood. These delicate weaving threads, the veins, that nourish and sustain. Such beautiful work, isn’t it?”

You darted a confused gaze in his direction but your eyes were caught by the magnifying glass, showcasing the smallest veins. Maybe it was beautiful. But it seemed to you that he saw something more in the guts that you couldn’t see. Where you felt absorbed and thoughtful, he seemed to feel ecstatic and in joyful awe. 

“The human body is surely well made.” You said.

You glanced at the veins pulsating under the open skin, still desperately pumping for that dying man. The beeping sound of the heart monitor became distant and your eyes got lost in his insides.

“... Can't believe he almost died.” You continued in a whisper.

You saw the blood bubbling between your hands when you pierced the skin of the hunter and it made you shiver. You couldn’t observe all this blood without thinking about the man you killed not so long ago…

Without thinking about Michael.

You shamefully averted your eyes and stayed silent for the rest of the surgery. You didn't notice it, but Jason glanced at you with a faint smile on his lips all along.

You helped him as much as you could but you felt bad while doing it. This person on the operation table…They were probably almost killed by Michael. And you still kept seeing him. 

Would that person still accept your help if they knew the truth? Did you even still deserve to be a nurse after that?

Those thoughts swarmed in your mind until the surgery was over. When Jason closed up the patient and called the hospital porter and nurses to bring the patient back to his room, he gave a satisfied look at the huge scar on his patient's belly before covering him with a hospital gown.

“He is gonna be alright. He'll need a lot of rest, but he is going to survive.” He stated.

The porters came almost immediately and when they rolled the patient out of the room, Jason reduced the distance between him and you. You could read glee on his face as his blood stained gloves gently took your equally stained gloved hands.

“You can see the beauty, can’t you? I can see it in your eyes. The beauty of the flesh…of the blood.”

Your eyes opened wide as your cheeks turned a vibrant scarlet. His excitement-filled eyes uncomfortably stared into your own. This was such strange behaviour. But he truly seemed elated about you sharing his passion for the surgery…or something else?

“N-no, I'm not.”

Jason shook his head in a dismissive way.

“I saw you. I saw it in your eyes.”

“No, it’s not true…” You breathed in horror, slowly removing your hands from his.

Your fingers were burning under your gloves. You had not been touched with such tenderness in a while…not even by Michael. But you couldn’t find yourself to agree with him. Yet, you felt ashamed, scared even, that he might be true.

Seeing you retreating, Jason took a somewhat sorry expression.

“I deeply apologize.” He said, looking truly embarrassed despite his surgical mask, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought that…”

His words trailed off and his shoulders sunk as he tried to find his words. Despite his height and stature, he looked almost pathetic at this moment. You gave him an apologetic smile and sighed.

“It’s okay. I…I understand you.”

You didn’t want him to feel bad. He was probably the only man that took you in consideration and who wasn’t a serial killer -which shouldn’t even be a standard at this point-

Jason seemed relieved and his dark eyes shimmered with hope.

“I really appreciate you as a nurse.” He said, removing his mask and his gloves to throw them in the bin. You felt surprisingly pleased to hear him say that and the blush on your face lingered some more, “I would really hate to ruin the relationship we have going on.”

You nodded silently and mirrored him, barely containing your excitement. Jason was a very interesting and brilliant person. You would be happy to have him as a friend…or more.

As if he read your mind, Jason came closer and you could read hesitation in his body language. He scratched the back of his dark hair and said.

“Can I ask you something?”

 

---

 

Michael

 

Michael watched the woman now asleep. In the dim light of the moon filtering through the curtains, a heavy silence enveloped the room. Shadows danced on the walls, their movements fluid yet ominous. Michael stood motionless just beyond the threshold, his towering figure cloaked in darkness.

His blade glinted faintly in the silvers of moonlight, yet he remained transfixed by the scene before him. His next victim laid unaware, the gentle rise and fall of her chest being the only hint of life in this room yet filled with two human forms.

There was something mesmerizing about the tranquility of sleep, a stark contrast to the dreadful fate that awaited. Michael had always been drawn to this moment—the stillness before the storm—where vulnerability was at its peak, casting a spell of intrigue over him. He leaned slightly closer, the silence amplifying the soft sounds of slumber: a sigh, the rustle of sheets, the contented murmur of dreams. The thrill of the hunt lingered in the air, electric and palpable. The spider felt a strange reverence for the victim, not in sympathy, but in the acknowledgment of their fragility.

He approached her and observed the features of her face. She was different from you, in a lot of ways. Maybe the hair was similar and maybe that was what drew him to her. But he had to see. He had to know.

He raised his knife in silence and it pricked the fat of her cheeks. A single drop of blood fell from her chin and her eyelids fluttered, her eyes still filled with slumber. She first saw the ghostly face of his mask staring right at her and had the urge to scream. But the burning sensation of the blade on her cheek only choked it up and a muted noise escaped her throat instead.

That was what he wanted. To be witnessed.

Michael cocked his head on the side in curiosity and he watched her breathing heavily as panic washed over her. She was now fully awake. Her eyes were almost bulging out of her eye sockets but she wasn’t saying anything. Maybe she was the one.

“Please, don’t do this.” She pleaded, her voice quivering.

The spider laid a disinterested look on her pitiful, shaking, body. She was so scared she could barely move, aside from the tremors traveling her limbs. In a slow gesture, he brought his hand on the woman’s throat to stop her from moving. She froze, locking eyes with him. He leaned forward, enough for his mask to almost touch her face. She shuddered and a long whine escaped her lips.

“Please, I’ll do anything.”

As Michael was starting to raise his knife, he stopped mid-motion. Her shaking hand came to touch his chest. A soft warmth radiated where she was touching him, something familiar. It was audacious of her and it reminded him of you.

Not in a way he would remember a memory, of course. More in a way of recognizing patterns, sensations.

The woman showed him a tensed smile, in hope to appease his murderous intents. Intrigued, his breathing became slightly heavier beneath the mask. For just a heartbeat, the relentless drive for violence faltered.

Could it be. 

Slightly, he lowered his head to glance at her hand.

But as he gestured in her direction, she retreated her hand immediately and let out a scream. He saw in her eyes the disgust, the hâte, the fear. All those words that defined him. 

Michael understood that she was simply wooing him into letting her live. The brief spark of connection dissipated as primal instincts kicked in.

The shape tightened his grip on her throat and pressed her head against the pillow.

“I-I don’t want to die!” She whimpered, her words gargling out of her throat as tears swelled at the corner of her eyes.

He didn’t hear her, and wasn't willing to either. This woman was not interesting to him anymore. She was empty inside, and was never meant to be special. Only fodder for the empty black hole that was Michael Myers.

  It was only you.

 Something within you he couldn’t find in anyone else. Something which inherently brought him back to you every single time. 

He barely looked at her when the knife pierced her side. Another victim, nothing more. 

Sinking the blade deeper inside of her, she shuddered, blood sputtering out of her pretty mouth. He watched her taking her final breath with indifference.

The longing faded, replaced by that insatiable hunger.

 

---

 

You turned the engine off and when silence filled the inside of your car, you allowed yourself a deep, tired, sigh, pressing your forehead against the wheel.

The sun was slowly rising and you could catch red hues coming through the trees. The night was giving way to the day and while everyone was waking up to go to work, you were going to sleep. Thus were the end of night shifts.

Alone, in your car, a deep feeling of excitement had nested at the bottom of your heart. Jason’s words still echoed in your ears.

“Would you like to go out…some time? I’ll pick you up.”

 Surely, it was a date. You saw how he blushed slightly while saying it. You couldn’t believe that it was happening.

But…What would Michael think?

The voice was back. Softer and almost pleading, somehow. But you weren’t Michael’s girlfriend. For what it was worth, you were his toy, his little thing. There was nothing going on between the two of you. You weren’t betraying him or something. Hell, you didn’t owe him anything.

With a bit of luck, if you happened to become a couple with Jason, maybe he could help you find a way out of Michael’s obsession.

This last thought brought you a bit of comfort. You got out of your car and slammed the door behind you. You couldn’t wait to go to bed as the first night of a night shift was always the most tiring. You walked slowly towards your porch and when the light  turned on, activated by movement, you noticed a small thing curled up against your doorway.

As you approached it, it shuddered but didn’t seem to have the strength to run away. It was a small baby fox. It was unusual to have one so close to a human’s habitation but as you often said, sick animals tended to show up literally on your doorstep.

You could see its chest rising rapidly as panic overwhelmed it. You smiled tiredly. Work was never truly over for a nurse.

You crouched slowly to not scare him and gently grabbed him. He didn’t try to fight, which was quite telling on its level of exhaustion. Its fur was soft to the touch and it shivered under your fingertips.

“Let’s get inside where it’s warmer…” You muttered as you turned the keys in your lock.

You entered your home and were welcomed by the lingering smell of pine trees and clean laundry.  As you were getting more tired, you decided to light the small lamp in your living room so you would not have the aggressive light of the one hanging from the ceiling. A dim, warm light filled the room, but leaving enough darkness to soothe your eyes.

The baby fox whined in your arms, curled into a ball with its head pressed against the crook of your elbow. You quickly looked around for a cardboard box and when you found one, you filled it with soft pieces of fabric and gently put the fox inside. The animal didn’t seem to complain and closed its eyes after nestling at the bottom of the box.

“Hm, I think I still have a small bottle somewhere.”

You rummaged through your medical equipment in the guest room and when you found a baby bottle, you filled it with water and went back to the living room. The box was sitting on the floor and you crouched next to it.

You approached the bottle and let him sniff it. He immediately started drinking from it and you figured that he was dehydrated -intuition that was confirmed when you pinched its skin and saw that the skin fold didn’t move back into place-

You stared at him with a mix of contentment and peace, listening to the tiny noises of suction he emitted while drinking. But you caught something else, in the silence of the room, which made you straighten up. A deep, familiar breathing, not too far from you.

You slowly turned around and finally noticed the tall figure of Michael Myers in a corner of the living room, swallowed by the darkness, his pale mask sticking out.

Despite being used to his constant game of hide and seek, you shuddered and your heart instantly fell in your mouth. How did he even get in? Somehow he always found a way, which was really nerve-wrecking. You also felt incredibly nervous and you suspected that it was because of Jason’s proposal.

“I-I was going to sleep but this baby fox showed up.” You blurted out, as if Michael was suddenly going to apologize and leave.

He stood motionless, staring at you in near perfect silence. His mask concealed any hint of emotion, but there was an undeniable intensity in the room. You could tell that something was different, maybe in the way he looked at you, or maybe because he didn’t pounce on you as he usually did when you finally saw him.

He seemed to observe you with more care. His head tilted from one side to the other, like a giant owl considering a far away prey. Did he know about Jason? Did he know about your plans of running away from him?

You slowly got back on your feet and put the cardboard box on the coffee table carefully. You didn’t know what Michael would do to such a small creature and it made you anxious. But he didn’t seem to have noticed it, his gaze locked on you. You averted your eyes, feeling too uncomfortable to stare back. Why did you feel…ashamed? Like a kid scared they might get caught. You weren’t cheating on him.

Michael slowly reduced the distance between the two of you and stopped one foot away from you. Your heart raced, caught between the instinct to flee and an attraction you still couldn’t describe. You couldn’t look at him yet. Were you afraid that he might read your thoughts if you did? Maybe. But you had other concerns for now.

What was Michael’s desire this time anyway? Was he going to throw you on the couch and fuck you till it was night again? Was he going to order you to suck him?

You bitterly bited your lips. Yes, it was only for that. Sex. You didn’t have to be scared he found out about Jason. Michael didn’t have feelings for you. Just a sense of possessiveness, he vaguely obliged.

Only then, you found the strength to look at him. His eye behind the mask stared right into you, sending a shiver through your spine. But it was again different, not as harsh as usual. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t kind, but it had something strangely human which surprised you. His unique iris travelled on your face, cold and unforgiving, like he was looking for something. What could he be thinking?

You frowned, trying to decipher that weird glint in his eye. That human feeling persisted, and then you finally grasped it, catching a glimpse of its meaning in a brief moment where your eyes met. 

Loneliness.

There was a loneliness in his stillness that mirrored your own, a sense of being trapped in something you never chose.

The hatred, fear and confusion you felt, vanished and was replaced by a dull feeling of pity.

"Michael," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. It was a name that held power—power over fear, power over curiosity, and perhaps even power over the heart. You unknowingly stepped closer, motivated by that tugging feeling that had haunted you since he entered your life.

As if for once, he finally heard you calling his name, Michael leaned down, his presence looming but unexpectedly gentle. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt his hot breath on your face through the small opening of the mask. Sweat building inside your palms, you found yourself pulling the bottom of it to reveal his mouth.

Before you could do anything, Michael pressed his lips against yours, almost hurriedly. You hummed in surprise, swallowed by the storm of sensations this kiss provided.

His huge hands came to cup your face, with such strength that it was painful. But Michael wasn't really the kind to be gentle. His fingers dug in the thin skin of your jaw and you moaned in pain. You had to follow his movement or you feared your head might come off.

You failed to understand what got into him.

Or what got into you.

But you answered his kiss and even deepened it. When your own tongue ventured inside his mouth, you felt his grip tighten. He pressed his body harder against you and one of his hands came to grab your hair, pulling you closer. You panted, and your hot breaths mingled. Your blood rushed inside your veins and you unexpectedly welcomed the electric tension that ignited inside when he touched you.

Michael never talked but you felt like he wanted to tell you something now. That kiss, among others, was different. Despite the obvious sexual tension which seemed to cement your relationship, there was something else. In this moment, he was yours. Against all logic, all reason, you embraced it fully, diving into the intoxicating chaos of his presence.

Why couldn’t you stop?

You broke the kiss to stare at him but his grip on you didn’t falter. Breathless, you felt yourself trembling slightly. Each time you kissed, each time he touched you, you felt like a sudden illness overtook you.

Michael pulled back the mask on his face and paused. He tilted his head on the side and you felt his hand twitching in your hair. He considered you for a moment then lowered his head. You heard him inhaling deeply, breathing in your smell like he was trying to remember it. You shivered, still not used to his animalistic behaviors.

Once again he paused.

Then, he suddenly grabbed your hand and you shuddered. His breath echoed behind his mask and he tilted his head on the side once again, but this time -you felt it- questioningly. Bringing your fingers close to his face, you heard him inhaling loudly again.

Was he… sniffing your fingers?

You remembered the moment Jason grabbed your hands and you gasped.

He couldn’t smell Jason on you…right? You retracted your hands in a hurry and pushed him away -or rather you pushed yourself away as he was simply a concrete block. Michael’s eye locked on you but he didn’t try to stop you. He seemed calm, but you knew he wasn’t stupid. With a bit of luck, he merely smelled blood on you. You averted your eyes and hid your hands behind your back.

“I had a surgery today. I’m tired, so I’ll just go to sleep.”

You realized you were trying to find excuses again. Why?!

Still feeling dizzy after this kiss, you did your best for your voice to appear calm but his suspicious gaze made you nervous. You wondered if he was going to force you to stay but he stayed at the same place when you turned around to reach the stairs. His burning gaze was on your back but for some unknown reason, he didn’t follow you.

For the first time, you wondered something.

Was Michael able to have feelings?

And if so...

Would Michael be hurt if you chose someone else?

Notes:

Hmm do not pick up baby animals that seem alone. Contact your local animal shelter instead!
You're free to kiss your Michael though

Chapter 13: Sly as a fox

Summary:

Michael's personal heaven

Notes:

Sorry it took so long <3 Finally some smut (my nemesis to write as a non native english speaker)

As your last night shift was to help, you were granted one day off. You decided that you were going to use it to take care of that baby fox.

When you woke up the day after, the baby seemed to be in much better health and was looking around in its box with curiosity. You gave him some water in a bowl and fed him a few pieces of chicken. It ate a bit but went to sleep right after so you figured that it was best to leave it alone until it felt strong again.

As the weather was getting colder, it was time for you to get the wood stove working again. But you needed wood for that. You had a few logs that had been drying in a corner since the beginning of September but which were too big to be put in a stove. You had to cut them off with an axe and this was your plan for the day as well as making sure the fox was recovering.

But as much as you wanted this day to be peaceful, you were obviously not going to have it.

Putting your coat on and getting the axe in the garden shack, you glanced at Michael standing in the doorway of your back door.

He was staring at you silently, arms resting on each side of his massive body. You figured that he left during the night to do…whatever Michael did in his free time, since he didn't visit you in your bedroom. But he was immediately back when you woke up.

Like he wanted to make sure you weren't doing anything…wrong.

This thought made you shiver. You had no idea if he wanted to “spend time with you” (a.k.a staring at you in a corner in total silence) or if he rather was monitoring you. You felt nervous because of Jason but he surely couldn't have guessed…right? He couldn't have just smelled him on you. You hoped you were right.

You shook your head in annoyance.

“I'm not cheating on him for god's sake…” you muttered to yourself.

You walked in direction of the pile of logs, dead leaves crunching under your feet. The outside smelled like wet grass and dry wood. Condensation evaporated in the air each time you exhaled. It was soon winter.

Michael, as expected, followed you. You decided to ignore him, in hope that it would reduce the lump of anxiousness forming in your stomach.

As you grabbed a log and put it on a flat trunk -specifically carved for this- you felt Michael getting closer. You rolled your eyes but said nothing. He was rather close and you could feel his hot breath on your back and see it condensing around your shoulders. This sent tingles down your waist you couldn't properly explain.

 Still trying to act like he wasn't there, you brandished your axe and aimed at the clueless log. But you stopped in mid movement when you heard whining inside the house.

You put your axe down and quickly walked inside to check what was going on. Michael followed your every move but stood at the same place.

After taking care of the baby fox -which had its paw stuck in the blanket and was panicking- you came back and Michael followed you with his gaze again. You went back to your initial place and he seemed even closer than before. You grunted and slightly turned your head in his direction.

“I can't chop wood if you're standing in my way.” You said, “You could at least try to help instead of standing there.”

You caught a glimpse of his eye staring at you intensely, yet calmly and your cheeks instantly flushed red. What was his deal anyway ? Was he trying to have your attention?

You slowly turned your back on him, battling with the butterflies fighting their way inside. You started cutting your wood, making sure you didn't decapitate him in the process, his eye fixed on you. You didn't know if it was a good idea to turn your back on a real serial killer but you felt too uncomfortable to face him and tell him that he was being annoying.

You tried to focus on the sound of your axe sinking into the dry wood but could only hear his heavy breathing on your back. Looking down, you saw his hand resting on the side of his thigh, looking immensely big. Warm and strong, twitching slightly.

You swallowed your spit with difficulty and focused back on your work. It was hard to cut those logs and took you several tries for a single one. Plus, the baby fox cried from time to time and you had to stop what you were doing to check on him.

And Michael.

Michael just kept standing more or less close to you, breathing in your neck. It was unnerving, even more than usual. Sometimes he was so close you could feel him warming your back. You were crushed by the weight of his impulses, his murderous intents ricocheted on you like bullets. You saw his hand leaning towards you several times but you managed to avoid him every time. You didn’t want him to touch you but it confirmed that he did want your attention.

After a few swings, you paused to wipe the sweat from your brow. This log was thicker than the others and you struggled to even reach the middle of it.  On top of that, you heard the baby fox whining again and you had to stop. Removing your coat because you were now too hot, you felt Michael inching closer to you. His breathing seemed heavier when he saw you undressing and it made you shiver. You felt his desire for closeness. For flesh. It leaked from him like a broken pipe.

More than your attention, he wanted you to see him. To want him again.

Was it because he smelled someone else on you? This thought crossed your mind. You volontarily moved out of his way and pretended to put the axe down. He paused and stared at you but you avoided his gaze.

“I have to help the fox.” You muttered.

Since you didn’t seem to pay attention to him, he stepped closer to the pile of logs you had already prepared, looking over them as if assessing your work. You stared at him suspiciously.

“Do not touch anything. I’ll be back.” You added.

You went inside and after giving a bit of food to the fox, you stepped outside. You discovered that Michael was now standing in front of your log and had your axe in his hand. All color drained from your face as you saw the blade shining. Fear clawed its way inside your guts and you approached carefully.

“Michael…Give it back.”

It was never a good sign when he had a weapon in his hands. You knew deep down he wouldn’t do anything to you…But it still made you nervous.

 Michael cocked his head on the side, staring at the huge log you failed to cut. He raised the axe with a practiced grip, and your heart pounded louder than ever. In one fluid motion, he brought the axe down with incredible strength. The wood split open, a clean cut that revealed the light, soft interior. You shuddered at the sound it made.

His swing was precise, skillful—something you might expect from an experienced woodsman rather than a figure known for horror. You noticed how his muscles under his coveralls tensed up with the effort and you felt your cheeks warming up.

After a moment, he paused and turned to you. The mask offered no insight to his thoughts or intentions, but you felt the weight of his presence. You half-expected him to lift his weapon and end the interaction in bloodshed. Instead, after what seemed an eternity, he dropped the axe on the ground and stared at you. You cleared your throat and quickly took the axe back.

“It’s only now that you want to help…”

You knew that he wanted you to look at him. But you didn’t indulge him. Since you now had a decent stack of firewood, you thought it was time to take it to the house. Avoiding him again, you grabbed a rope in the shack. When you went back you expected him to be staring at you but instead, you noticed Michael looking in the direction of your house. You could hear a faint whining noise again and that’s what you figured he heard as well.

“I’m gonna check on him as soon as I’m finished with this.” You said, more to yourself than to him.

You didn’t want to do several back and forth just to get a few logs in each time so you thought about a trick you learned from one of your –faraway– neighbours. After stacking your firewood well, you could make a kind of slip knot to carry it all somewhere. You just had to wrap two around the two ends of the bundle of wood. You started making it, and as you were making one, trying to figure out where to put it, you noticed that Michael wasn’t behind you anymore.

You looked around but he was nowhere to be seen in the garden. A feeling of dread overwhelmed you and somehow not letting go of your rope, you sprung back on your feet to go back inside the house.

Your eyes immediately darted towards the cardboard box where the fox was and your stomach dropped in your chest.

Michael was looming over it, a knife in his hand –which he had found in your house. His gaze was fixed on the small animal, looking at it with both curiosity and disinterest. He looked like a scary boogeyman, standing menacingly tall above it.

Getting your attention with the firewood wasn’t enough. He had to know what was so important about this little crying thing in the box.

He approached the knife and you gasped.

“Michael, no!”

Your heart didn’t have time to beat twice, that you were throwing the slip knot rope in his direction like a lasso. Maybe in another life you were a cowboy, but the rope perfectly wrapped around his head. Michael first had the reflex to look down but you didn’t give him time to think and pulled as hard as you could.

He emitted a surprised groan and his head was thrown back, his hands clutching the rope around his neck. The knife fell to the ground in a metallic clatter as the blade striked the hard surface.

He stumbled backwards, trying to straighten his arched back. As he fought your grip, you started sliding on the wooden floor, pulled by his prodigious strength. You could see him getting closer to the box and your heart raced. Using all the strength you had, you anchored your feet into the ground, pulled harder on the rope and this time, Michael turned around, in an attempt to figure what was happening in his back.

 Forced to bend forward, he fell to his knees, fingers still wrapped around the rope. He slowly raised his head to stare at you, wheezing slightly. The surprise flickered in Michael’s dark eye, momentarily replaced by something unexpected—a flicker of excitement, almost a thrill. Your strength and defiance seemed to awaken a different kind of intensity within him.

Still gripping the rope tightly, you panted, a feeling of pride swelling your heart. You actually managed to get him on his knees. If you wanted, you could have him at your mercy. You wondered if you could kill him that way, that thought was fleeting but it still crossed your mind.

“You don’t get to kill everyone or anything that you think comes between us!” You shouted angrily, “So, leave that fox alone.”

Your hands were starting to shake from the intense grip you had on the rope. You hoped you could hold on a little longer, and maybe get him to pass out from the lack of oxygen. But Michael stayed on his knees and despite his calm appearance, was still fighting you.

 You felt like pulling a stubborn cow. His bloodshot eye was fixed on you and the harder you pulled, the heavier he breathed. You could feel something weird coming from him, a thirst for blood –obviously, but something else as well. A strong, intense feeling you couldn’t quite describe.

Puzzled, you watched his shoulders heaving with each deep breath and his somewhat stiff posture. He was fighting you, indeed, but obviously had something else going on. After all, he had not tried to fight back entirely yet. After a few seconds, you looked down and discovered that Michael was growing the biggest boner you had ever seen.

Uh-oh.

You remembered the time you stabbed a fork in his thigh and realized that more than your attention, he craved the violence you could express. Momentarily shocked, you ever so slightly lessened your grasp. Michael instantly felt the rope loosening around his neck. With a sudden, terrifying strength, he seized the rope you had used against him and yanked it, pulling you closer. You yelped in surprise and stumbled forward, the force of his pull sending you crashing in front of him.

Realizing what he was doing, you tried to get up but he immediately pushed you and you fell on your back.

“W-Wait!” You stuttered, feeling your body warming up.

Michael’s heavy breath echoed under his mask and his massive hand came to grab your ankle to pull you under him. You whimpered, your eyes glued to the huge bulge deforming his coveralls. You couldn’t see his eye but he exuded such heat, and was breathing so hard that you figured he was deeply aroused.

For God’s sake, if you knew he was going to react like that…

In a few swift movements, he almost tore the shoes and pants off of you. You tried to protest, but were eventually reduced to silence when he slammed his hands on the ground, on each side of your body. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, each heartbeat ringing in your ears. You could almost hear the thunder of your pulse, as Michael’s gaze bore into you. It was as if he debated—between rage and fucking the hell out of you.

With only your underwear to separate you from him, you could feel the heat coming from his hard cock, even through the fabric. Grunting slightly, he eagerly pressed his hips against your bare cunt. His dick was so hard, you felt like having a heated wooden bat next to you.

“M-Michael, wait, you look…”

Way too horny right now, you thought .

Not hearing a single word you said, he started grinding against you almost desperately, his hands coming to grasp your thighs to press you harder against him. Having a literal stone pillar rubbed against your clit was first not that pleasant. You couldn’t believe the hardness in his pants right now. But the pressure he applied at the same time was making your own clit starting to react. Your bottom lip got caught between your teeth as you tried to suppress a moan.

You would never admit it…but seeing him on his knees and aroused to this point, didn’t leave you indifferent.

You were starting to sweat, both because of the heat he produced but also because of the situation. You wondered if, with how hard and big he was, it was going to hurt.

Michael was not even trying to look at you anymore. He huffed under his mask, his body begging for friction. You watched as his hand, trembling with desire, grabbed the zipper of his coveralls to pull it down. He sighed in relief when he pulled his cock out and your heart raced.

It was so red and venous. Pre-cum was already leaking at the tip.

When he started pulling your underwear, you panicked and tried to push his hand away. But Michael didn’t seem willing to stop now. Pumping himself a few times, he immediately inserted it inside you and it awfully, and easily, glided in, as you were already wet.

You moaned and gasped, a feeling of fullness overtaking your insides. Your walls stretched and tried to accommodate the huge rod he was pushing in. It was nearly painful, but the pain was dulled by the relentless stroking of your sweet spot. Your body trembled and your hands clenched in reaction. He didn’t wait to settle in and started giving piston-like thrusts, his fingers digging in the soft flesh of your thigh. He was hitting your cervix with great force and even though pain mixed with pleasure in an expected and ambiguous way, you didn’t want to leave it bruised.

You remembered you were still holding the rope, tied to Michael’s neck. Your whole body shaken by his powerful thrusts, you pulled the rope and the knot slided, tightening around him.

“S-Slow down.” You ordered, trying to –at least– make him let go of your hips, that were starting to hurt.

Michael groaned and tensed up for a bit. He leaned forward and you heard him wheezing under the mask as he tried to resist your grip. But then, his thrusting pace fastened and you felt him hitting deeper inside you. He grunted, focusing back on his movements.

 Your eyes opened wide and you let out a moan, pleasure washing over you. You glanced in his direction and saw saliva dripping through the opening of the mouth. Despite the obvious struggle to breathe he suffered from, he didn’t try to stop you once. This man…was thoroughly enjoying the choking you accidentally provided and pounding harder !

What a freak, you thought as you –against all odds– still didn’t stop him.

You could feel his hands gripping your sides tighter, his breaths coming out in ragged huffs. His cock, was rock hard and throbbing inside of you. It pulsed to the rhythm of his heartbeats as he obviously approached his point of no return.

You wished you could have seen his face. But this gloomy mask was always between you and him. His eyes were hidden in the shadows, and his emotions were still a mystery to you.

But you could feel him enjoying it. Through the tension pooling under his fingertips, through the eagerness of his thrusts. He thirsted, he craved, he desired you in the most primal way possible. And it made your body shudder and weaken and die and revive, all at the same time. Your clit throbbed in return, wishing contact as you could feel every inch of him moving inside.

Michael, drool dripping down his throat into his opened collar, suddenly shuddered and immobilised. You heard him grunt as he came, his cock buried deep inside of you. He strained as he unloaded into your depths, filling you entirely inside. You felt his cock and balls twitch as he pumped everything out, rolling his hips some more to get the last bits of his climax.

You let go of the rope which loosened and eventually unwrapped, before falling on the ground with a dull thud. Michael inhaled deeply and took control back, his head bobbing a few times as he found a more natural breathing.

Breathless, you stared at him with wide opened eyes.

Well, that was something.

Michael raised his head and you felt his eye staring at you in the shadows of his mask. He was probably glad that he got your attention back.

As if he was reading your mind, he suddenly leaned forward and pulled the bottom of his mask to reveal his lips. He crushed his mouth against yours and you let out a muted moan in protest. 

He silently approached his hand to wrap his fingers around your throat and your body stiffened. He squeezed your tender neck slightly, just enough for you to feel lightheaded.

Your heart raced as you wondered if he intended to kill you for getting him on his knees. 

As he was still inside you, and somewhat still hard, he bucked his hips unexpectedly which sent a shiver running down your spine. You were still sensitive and he knew it. You felt him smirking slightly when he felt your walls squeezing him in response. 

He started moving again and you discovered that, if your blood was struggling to get to your head, it found its way easily down your vulva.

You whimpered against his lips, the stroking against your sweet spot inside overwhelming you. Michael’s eye was fixed on you as he bucked his hips and watched every single emotion crossing your face.

He wanted revenge. He wanted to give you the same treatment.

When you felt a tingle building its way down your hips, you started panting, shaking your head slightly. Your eyes opened wide in surprise to stare at him.

“Ngh…how are you doing that.” You breathed as he started pounding harder.

As an answer, Michael tightened his grip on your throat and inserted his tongue inside your parted lips. You moaned, feeling dizzier and subconsciously allowing yours to play with his. You felt like you were now a slave to your sensations, only discerning the wet embrace of his tongue, and the gradual swelling of your walls, pushing his cum covered cock against your sweet spot.

Your heart seemed ready to explode in your chest when your orgasm hit you. It came in waves, built by each of his thrusts. You gasped for air and only then, he released your airway which allowed your climax to spread deeper. Your back arched and your insides throbbed as stars collided in your vision field.

Michael continued to roll his hips until you were a panting mess laying on the floor.

He stared at you with –what you thought was– barely restrained satisfaction and cocked his head on the side to observe you some more. Your cheeks flushed red as you recovered your vision to glare at him.

“Bastard…” you muttered as you shyly looked away, “Like you weren't the one enjoying it the most.”

Recovering his naturally impassible self, he pulled the mask back on his face, and you caught a glimpse of abrasions and bruises flourishing at the surface of his neck in a linear pattern. He didn't seem to mind.

Michael pulled out and cum mixed with your slick splattered on the floor.

Not seeming to care one bit about the mess he did, he negligently wiped the excess off his dick to put it back in his boxers.

You winced in disgust and thought that you didn't want to get closer to him than you already were, but would consider later to give him a shower.

You felt ashamed again at how quickly you gave in. But sex with him was so good, so raw and unrestrained that the primitive part of your brain was always praying for it to happen.

But if only it was just sex.

You were terrified to acknowledge the connection you had with him. A thread, each end tied to you and him, always pulling you in his direction. But if that thread was tied around his wrist, yours was tied around your neck.

And tightening each time you saw him.

As you quickly went to the bathroom and put your clothes back on, you noticed that he didn't have any more interest in the fox. He could have easily gone back to his shenanigans and kill the now asleep animal, but he simply stood where you left him and watched you going here and there in the house.

It was now clear.

He was very needy.

In his own way, of course. He couldn't stand that something else had your attention. It was troublesome, as if his possessive behaviour got worse, he was surely going to try to keep you for himself.

Or kill anything that came between you and him…

You glanced in his direction as you cleaned the mess of the floor with a sponge. He was looking through the window, subconsciously scratching the red mark on his neck.

You remembered how sad, how hopeless you felt. You remembered your sleepless nights, your fear and your anger. Some part of you wanted him, craved him in a way you deeply hated. But a bigger part of you aspired to have a normal life again, to be free from his addictive torment.

Michael needed you, and it seemed more than you needed him.

And you were now pretty sure that you could use that for your own benefit.

Notes:

Michael is a freak I love him

Chapter 14: Toxic

Summary:

Michael gets cockblocked

Notes:

A new chapter, finally!
Thank you for everyone still reading, I love reading your comments and seeing we are all insane <3
Anyway this is only getting worse, let's all root for reader!

It was cold outside. The air was damp, gnawing at your skin through your clothes. You stood on the muddy soil, enveloped by the ethereal mist that clings to the air like a veil. You looked down at your hands and everything seemed blurry. You felt so sleepy, your eyes could barely open.

Where were you?

The air was thick with the earthy scent of moss and decaying leaves. You raised your head to stare at the full moon shining through the scattered leaves.

The forest.

Your head bobbed a few times and just as you were going to fall back asleep, you saw something watching you through the trees. The red eyes spider. It stood on its eight hairy legs behind the dark trunks, barely moving. Its red bulging eyes watched expressionless, yet all knowing. You stared back at it, wondering what it was waiting for.

You felt safe.

You woke up on your couch, the room shrouded in darkness. It was deep in the night and you failed to remember when you fell asleep in your living room. You went back to your room as you were starting to shiver, with the strange feeling of forgetting something.

---

   As the late afternoon sun streamed through the glass window of the nurse station, you watched a couple sitting on one of the benches of the hospital's garden.

The woman leaned in the warmth of her boyfriend, who shielded her from the cold by wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He kissed her forehead and you saw her giggle, her breath evaporating around her as she did.

You sighed deeply.

Ah…must be nice .

You were called back to reality when Bianca slided a goblet of hot coffee in front of you.

“Thanks.” You said, wrapping your fingers around it to warm your hands.

She sat down next to you, holding her own cup of coffee.

“So…” She started, frowning slightly as if she was feeling the beginning of a headache, “Please explain to me once more the problem, I think I misheard you.”

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of the goblet as you stared into your coffee in embarrassment.

“I'm not sure if I should go out with Jason.” You said again.

You weren't even finished with your sentence that her face was already the epitome of confusion.

“That's what I feared I heard.” She said, shaking her head in disapproval, before sipping her drink loudly, “ That's the dumbest thing I've heard today…or maybe the second. Someone told me they were deathly sick because they didn't understand why they were out of breath…After running a few miles.”

She paused and raised an eyebrow, thinking about that last thing, before shrugging her shoulders in a dismissive way with an expression of both disappointment and amusement.

You lowered your head to tug at the hem of your white nurse gown. You didn't know what to say. It was dumb, maybe. But after yesterday, you thought about everything and you wondered if you weren't putting Jason in danger by accepting his date.

When Michael was gone after your little…fight, you noticed that the baby fox was feeling way better. It tried to bite you and tried to escape twice, which was a good sign for you to release him. But just as you were putting the cardboard box outside, already hearing his mom calling him in the woods, you wondered if anyone you invited in this home was inherently endangered. The baby fox. Jason.

Anyone.

Maybe it meant that you had to be alone forever, but at least no one would get hurt.

Well…not really alone. There would be Michael.

Your eyes darkened at that last thought as you anxiously smoothed the edges of your dress. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice Bianca staring at you suspiciously.

“There is another man in your life.” She suddenly stated.

When she saw your eyes widening in surprise, a proud grin stretched her lips.

“I knew it. It's the only reason for me that you would hesitate!” She scooted closer to you and buried her chin in her palms, looking excited, “Tell me all about this other guy. And don't you dare try to lie to me!”

You raised the corners of your mouth in a vain attempt to show a smile but only managed to get an anxious grin. Panic filled your chest and you tried to shrug it off.

“I-It’s nothing serious. Really.”

She saw in your eyes that there was indeed someone else so you couldn't back down. But she didn't actually know why you were so stressed about her knowing about him. 

“Nothing serious?” She scoffed, “It's serious enough for you to reconsider dating Jason.”

“ It's really not!” You blurted out, “I mean…we saw each other a few times…”

“A few times?” She repeated, her grin stretching bigger.

“It's just sex.”

“Of course it is.” She sneered, “That's what you like to think.”

“I don't think he sees me as a girlfriend anyway.” You tried.

“Did he come back after your first date ?”

“Well…in a way, yes. He actually keeps coming back even if I don't want him to.” You muttered.

“We love a caring guy.” She winked, “What else?”

“He is…sexy.”

“Uh-hu. Starting well.”

“He is so good at sex actually. Like really good. He…saved my life…once. But he is so obstinate. Doesn't communicate much. He actually has violence issues. And is literally obsessed with me ?” You enumerated, massaging your forehead in an annoyed gesture, “He always ignores what I ask him to do, never tells me nice words, dirties my floor and breaks my stuff, has no sympathy whatsoever for my feelings…and doesn't care about animals!”

You paused to get your breath back and glanced in the direction of Bianca who was staring at you with the most concerned expression. You exhaled and lowered your shoulders which had risen with the tension.

“He is a douch.” You finally said in a dull voice to punctuate your words.

Bianca frowned and pursed her lips, looking thoughtful and concerned.

“So…you're telling me you're hesitating between a sewer rat and a perfect man? Does he even have a job?”

You winced.

Did serial killer count as a job? He wasn't getting paid for it though.

“Not a full time one.” You ended up saying.

Bianca rolled her eyes.

“That's literally just a guy. And seems like a toxic one. Why are you even putting up with him?”

You looked down with embarrassment. Yes…You had no idea why you kept seeing him.

Okay, he actually always came to your house unprompted so it wasn't like you had a choice. But you let him. You tried to find plans to get away from him, to kill him, to make him disappear…And still!

And still.

You longed for his touch, you craved his kisses, you died each time his arms wrapped around you, and your heart raced when he was around, in both fear and excitement.

“I…I don't know.” You answered in all honesty.

Bianca opened her mouth to scold you but seeing your lost expression, she quickly closed it. Her face softened and she grabbed your hand.

“You should still try with Jason.” She said softly, “ You might find something better for you. This man can't say you're not his girlfriend and be mad at you because you're trying to find someone better for you. You deserve to be happy.”

You raised your gaze to stare at her and somehow, her words hit you deep inside.

You deserved to be happy.

You deserved to be safe.

You nodded slowly and gave her a tired smile. She grinned back to reassure you.

You heard several heavy footsteps in the corridor and both of you turned your head in direction of the noise. You saw three policemen passing by the nurse station, one of them greeting you by tipping the edge of his hat.

“What's all that about?” You asked, worried.

Bianca frowned and took another sip of her coffee.

“Jason's patient…the one who was stabbed by Michael Myers, died during the night. He didn't survive the operation.”

You anxiously bit your bottom lip. You thought the operation was a success. Jason seemed pretty confident during the surgery, you wondered what could have gone wrong.

Bianca glanced in direction of where the policemen just had dissappeared and slowly leaned towards you.

“But there is apparently something else…” She whispered, cupping her mouth as if she feared someone might hear her, “I heard them talking the other day. Apparently the DNA found on this man’s clothes wasn’t Michael Myers’. And the description given by the witness who shot at the killer, had some discrepancy. It had nothing to do with Myers’ description.”

Your eyes opened wide at this new information.

“What?” You whispered back, “But that means…”

Bianca nodded.

“There might be a copycat. Or at least another serial killer in town.”

You frowned but somehow felt relieved. Michael wasn’t at fault…for once. But it meant that Haddonfield and all the towns surrounding it, had twice the danger.

You sighed and finished your coffee.

“Maybe I should check on Jason.” You said.

Bianca smiled.

“Good idea.” She said, pulling her hair into a ponytail, “You might want to wait a bit. If those officers are here, it means that they want to ask him questions. They probably want to know if the patient said something before dying.”

You thanked her for the coffee again and stood up from your chair. You left the nurse station with a thoughtful expression. A serial killer was already troublesome. But two of them…It was scary enough to consider moving out of the state. What if the second one also came on your doorstep to ask for care? You deeply hoped that you weren’t going to be a magnet to killers.

You heard voices down the corridor and tried to tone down the sound of your heels hitting the ground. You saw the three police officers surrounding Jason, who was responding to their questions gracefully. You hid a bit behind a corner and faked looking at your  notes to hear the conversation.

“...He didn’t communicate anything during his stay here?” The officer who tipped his hat asked. He held a small notebook with a few notes written on.

Jason shook his head, bearing a sorry expression.

“As I said…My patient never woke up after the surgery. It was a dangerous one and even if some people survive, he was not as lucky. The wound was just too serious.”

“It’s very important that you do not lie to us, doctor.” One said, “He was the only witness who saw the killer, as the person who shot at him was too far away.”

Jason nodded but shrugged in a “there is still nothing I can do” way. The third officer, who until then, was silent, stepped forward.

“It’s unfortunate that the only witness in this case died unexpectedly. Almost fortuitous for the killer.” He said, looking somewhat intense, “Don’t you think, doctor?”

His tone was almost accusatory. Jason held his gaze but you could feel that he didn’t like what he insinuated.

“Well, I thought you suspected our local serial killer, Michael Myers?” The surgeon replied with a hint of annoyance.

Hearing his name made your heart jump in your chest. The three officers exchanged a meaningful look which both you and Jason noticed. They had obviously something else in mind.

“...We are exploring other options.” The officer ended up saying with a patient smile.

Jason mirrored him but it was clear that he didn’t have anything to say to them anymore . The officers nodded and thanked him for taking the time to answer their questions. They chatted a little before leaving, giving Jason a paper with a number on it “in case he remembered anything”.

He watched them walking down the corridors then sighed.

“Eavesdropping is a bad habit, you know.” He suddenly said and you shuddered behind your corner.

You slowly leaned on the side and saw him staring straight at you, his arms crossed. You pursed your lips, looking even more guilty.

“Sorry…” You said, finally leaving your hiding place to walk towards him, “I was curious.”

Jason’s eyes softened when he saw your truly sorry expression and smiled.

“I can understand.”

“I’m sorry about your patient.”

He nodded and you saw a veil of sadness passing in front of his eyes.

“It’s really unfortunate. The sutures didn’t hold and he died of internal bleeding during the night. The nurses and I tried to save him but he was simply too weak.”

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes tiredly with one hand.

“I might as well be the killer they are looking for.”

He truly looked heartbroken and you felt bad for him. You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

“You can’t save everyone. You did your best.” You said.

Jason put his hand above yours and squeezed it tightly in a silent way to thank you. You felt your heart race. His hand was big and warm. This contact sent tingles down your arm and you had to remove your hand. Just as you did, you met his eyes and what you saw was so soft and intense that you had to avert your gaze.

This had nothing to do with how Michael stared at you.

You cleared your throat and blushed slightly.

“I know this might not be a good time…” He suddenly said, “But I would still love to go out with you. I wanted to ask if you were free this weekend?”

Your eyes opened wide in surprise and you started to stutter.

“I-I…uh, yes?”

Oh God, it was happening.

“I heard that you lived pretty far away and with this serial killer walking freely, it might not be safe for you to meet me somewhere. How about I pick you up this Saturday for dinner?” He asked with a coy smile.

As you heard the last sentence, all color drained from your cheeks. Michael was surely going to roam around your place. If he saw Jason he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

“Y-You don’t need to, don’t worry about me, I’ll meet you there!” You blurted out with a crooked smile.

Jason shook his head.

“What kind of man would I be if I let you go there alone? No, I’ll pick you up.” He chuckled, not letting you talk further.

He smiled at you but you failed to mirror him. You tried to convince him to give you the address instead but he was adamant to keep it a secret. He told you that he was really happy to get you and couldn’t wait to see what your house looked like.

In the end he left without giving you more time to beg him to let you go there yourself instead.

“Oh, and it’s a date!” He said from the end of the corridor, looking excited.

You watched him with empty eyes, panic settling in.

He didn’t realize how much in danger he was. Jason feared to be the killer in the story, but he didn’t realize he could soon be the victim.

 

---

 

You stepped into the hot shower, steam rising in the small bathroom, enveloping you in warmth and comfort. As the water cascaded down, you felt the tension of the day melt away. With each drop, your mind wandered, drifting toward thoughts of the last events.

Jason couldn’t step one foot in the house.

He could –would– get killed.

During the day, you tried to talk him out of meeting at your place but he was so busy with his surgeries that you didn’t even manage to initiate a conversation. Plus, you were starting to suspect that some nurses tried to get you out of Jason’s way on purpose. They probably didn’t like that he took a liking to you, and always asked you to help them at the worst timing.

And Michael.

You wondered what he would think of that. Maybe if he saw you going seriously for another guy he would give up and just find someone else to bother? You sighed and rinsed some soap off your arm. No, what were you even thinking…He was deeply obsessed with you, this could never happen. You were sure that he would kill him. And it couldn’t happen either.

You didn’t want to be responsible for another death.

You cupped your hands together and a huge bubble swelled between your palms. You saw part of your reflection in it, twirling, deformed by the iridescent waves traveling the surface of it. What did all of this make of you? A liar? A puppet?

A monster …?

The bubble popped by itself and your reflection vanished.

No. You weren’t. You weren’t like Michael. And this weird, obscur attraction you had towards him was just a survival instinct…. Anyone would be unsettled and unnerved in your situation! It was nothing more than that.

You could get away from this. If you found a way to stop Michael from coming to your place for a little while, maybe it would allow you to both, go on a date, and also focus on a way for him to never be able to come back.

You deserved to be happy…

You deserved that peaceful life you had before. You had friends, people that found you attractive, a job you loved…You deserved a normal, happy life. And maybe with Jason in it.

You could forget about Michael Myers.

You turned off the faucet and the water gurgled in the shower drain. You started squeezing your hair to remove the excess of water and your eyes caught something in your peripheral vision. Through the shower curtain, you noticed a weird shadow in the doorway. Something, that wasn’t there or that shouldn’t.

You squinted your eyes, trying to understand what it was. It looked like a…dark lump on the doorframe. You were going to pull the curtain when you saw it move.

It wasn’t a lump.

It was a shoulder.

A tall, muscular, figure appeared in the doorway, and it didn’t take you long to recognize who it was when you saw the blurry, white spot where the head was supposed to be.

“Michael…” You breathed.

You didn’t know what he was doing here, lurking in the shadows. It was like your own thoughts summoned him. You wondered if he was connected to you by one way or another. If, despite being mute and deaf to your sorrow, he could hear you calling his name.

He approached silently and you watched the details of his massive body getting more and more precise behind the plastic of the shower curtain. Your breath shortened as you froze into place, feeling each of the water drops falling down your back and chest.

An intense, suffocating tension rose in the room, mixing with the hot steam. His presence alone made the hair on your arm stand up and you were swallowed once again by the intensity of his killing impulses.

Michael put something on the sink which you didn’t recognize at first. The plastic blurred your vision but the shape of it looked like a knife.

He stopped in front of the bathtub and stared back at you, the shower curtain being the only thing separating the two of you. You stood unmoving, naked, yet you didn’t try to cover yourself. You were reminded of that time in the bathroom. One of your first times seeing his real face. How you were scared. How you felt hopeless.

How you wished to say it changed.

It toned down maybe, but alas, those feelings persisted. Your heart pounded in your chest and you stared into the two black holes where his eyes hid. You now had a mix of all those things with something else. That rotting spot in your heart. Something that gnawed at you, something that reminded you that despite your words, you still belonged to him.

Michael raised his arm silently and slowly pulled the curtain on the side. A cold breeze infiltrated the bathtub and you shivered. His hot breath finally reached you and you watched him tilting his head on the side, as he always did.

He observed your body, the curves of it, and the details of your face. Admiring wasn’t a capacity Michael had. But maybe by looking at you, he hoped to feel something like “home”.

Is that what you were to him?

Home?

You raised your gaze and met his only working eye. The single black hole pierced your soul in a familiar way. There was no emotion in it, something you learned to like you realized. But you felt seen, you felt important.

 He towered you with all his height and as he leaned forward, you were enveloped by his warmth. You wished you tried to push him away. You wished you could move.

But you let him.

You let him embrace you, you let him wrap his arms around your body. You wet his entire coveralls but he didn’t seem to mind. It was so unlike him to hug like that. It was clumsy and somewhat rough, way too tight for a normal hug. But he didn’t try once to be tender with you. And it hit you more inside that you realized.

It was like a cold hand just squeezed your heart. Tightly.

Raising the bottom of his mask, his lips came to kiss yours. You felt this singular spark, this electricity rushing through your veins with his contact. Like your body awakened, like your mind was a metal can and his skin, a bullet. You moaned when his tongue wandered, when you felt yourself getting dizzy.

You hated how good it made you feel.

You hated that he chose this moment to finally be slightly human.

Michael broke the kiss when he felt something wet and warm coating his jaw. He pulled his mask back on his face to stare at you. He saw tears running down your cheeks and seemed to pause for a moment.

“Michael.” You said, your voice trembling, “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

There was still no emotion, or maybe he was hiding it behind his mask. He stood still, staring at you in silence. The tension rose in the room, it was subtle but you could sense a slight shift. He didn’t like it.

“I don’t want you here. I never did.”

Michael simply leaned an inch forward, just like he was trying to hear you better, and this time, you felt like the room was filled with black smoke. The weight of his emotions rising was crushing. His body language didn’t tell anything about his inner thoughts and he stood motionless.

But you noticed the veins on his neck bulging and your heart raced.

“I can’t keep on living like this. I want you to leave this house. I want you to never come back.” You continued, holding his dark gaze.

You had to try. Michael probably thought that you were in a relationship with him. You now knew that he was unable to kill you. And for all it was worth, maybe he valued you enough to consider your words. You had to try.

You were now shaking. His murder intents were so strong that you felt like burning black goo just spilled on you. He leaned forward some more and this time you got the urge to lean back. You could feel his rage rising. You struggled to keep eye contact and your eyelids fluttered. A primal fear wailed and screamed, making its way inside your throat, your whole body telling you to run. His body language was so subtle, anyone would think that he was simply standing still.

But you knew better.

His breathing started to deepen, almost imperceptibly at first. Broad shoulders slumped slightly, but it was quickly replaced by a rising tension; he squared his stance, feet planted firmly on the ground. He took a step closer, the distance between the two of you shrinking, and his body language grew increasingly aggressive. You held your breath. His chest was rising and falling more rapidly, and the natural fluidity of his movements became sharp and jagged.

He suddenly raised a hand, fingers curling into hardened fists, nails digging into his palms. You flinched, a flash of him strangling you against the wall making you shudder.

Finally, in a sudden burst of rage, he turned toward the tiled wall. With a swift, forceful motion, he brought his fist crashing down, shattering the tiles and unleashing a cloud of dust and debris into the air. The sound of breaking ceramic echoed in the silence, a visceral manifestation of the turmoil that had reached its breaking point.

You shuddered but made sure no noise came out of your mouth. Michael slowly raised his head to stare at you again. His face was only inches from yours. Your eyes trailed on the pile of ceramic on the floor and in the bathtub. You inhaled deeply and forced yourself to look at him.

“It’s killing me. And I think…I’m losing myself.” You breathed, raising a defying gaze,“So if you don’t want me to kill myself eventually...You’ll leave.”

Threatening him to end your life was your last hope. He didn’t listen before when you begged him to leave you alone. So maybe…Just maybe. If there was something in him that didn’t want to lose you…He would listen this time.

Michael tilted his head on the side slowly. You knew he was trying to scare you. His killer instincts were taking over and he was trying to not kill you on spot. You could see how tense he looked. How every muscle of his body seemed to tighten and get ready to provide strength for killing.

He suddenly approached his massive, twitching hand, towards your face. He was breathing heavily and you could see in the shadows of his mask, his bloodshot eye staring at you. But you knew.

You knew he would never. He simply couldn’t.

When his fingers almost brushed against your neck, a tremor passed through his arm and he paused. Ever so slowly, he lowered his hand and it came to rest on his side. You realized you had stopped breathing and you discreetly got your breath back. 

You thought he was going to hit you. You thought that despite what you tried to convince yourself, he would simply kill you. But Michael only took back his statue-like appearance and stared at you silently. The invisible black smoke in the room was still here…but it left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. Your heart was racing in your chest and you could only hear the sound of your blood rushing in your temples.

After what seemed an eternity, Michael stepped back and the shower curtain loosely fell back into place. You watched his blurry figure turn around without looking back and he left the bathroom, swallowed by the darkness on the other side.

The tension dissappeared and you suddenly felt like that was the only thing keeping you standing. You fell to your knees and panted, your body shaking as relief and fear washed over you. You clutched your sides, trying to suppress the sobs coming out of your mouth.

You couldn’t believe it.

Michael left.

Notes:

Angst? In this fic? It's more likely than you think

Chapter 15: I miss hating you

Summary:

Michael is gone

Notes:

Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos <3

 Thursday.

You went to sleep almost immediately after Michael left. You had no idea why but you kept sobbing and crying. The aftermath of his outburst shook you up, it was true…But you felt like some part of you was mourning something.

You had a dream that night. You were in the forest again. After looking around for a bit, you noticed that it was the exact same place as your last dream. You raised your gaze and saw that clouds were hiding the moon. It was way darker now. It was a calm night and despite your dizziness, you appreciated the quiet murmur of the wind in the leaves.

You looked in the distance, just where the spider was last time. But there was only an empty spot, as the spider was gone, only leaving a few webs floating among the branches.

Your hands felt…sticky.

You woke up in a sweat, arms and legs spread on your bed. You stared at your ceiling for a bit and slowly sat up after taking the time to wake up. You raised your hands to stare at them but they were clean. You sighed.

 Your dreams were so weird lately…It made you uncomfortable.

You got up and just as you went down the stairs, you realized you were looking everywhere, at every corner of your house. Subconsciously, you were looking for Michael, you knew it. He usually creeped up on you or hid in a corner until you found him. It was now so common for you to find him in your house that it was the first thing you looked for when waking up.

But you could see now that there was only you.

You made yourself some coffee and ate some breakfast. Your shift started in the afternoon so you had time to prepare and eat well. As you were pouring yourself a cup, you noticed something on the floor. You frowned, seeing that it was dirt.

After a more thorough inspection, you saw that your ground was in fact muddy and dirty in front of the back door, just like someone entered with very dirty shoes. You sighed and got a broom. 

It wasn’t there yesterday, that was for sure. Did someone come in during the night? Or maybe Michael dirtied it when he came last night?

You glanced suspiciously at the forest through the window.

“Michael…Did you come back last night?” You wondered to yourself.

Only the sound of the wind outside answered you. You had a feeling that if that was true, he wasn’t here anymore. But it was weird, you usually felt it when he came during the night.

You decided to brush it off and focus on the fact he wasn’t here anymore instead. You didn’t know why you kept thinking about him anyway…

You quickly finished your breakfast and went to the bathroom to wash your face before getting dressed. You wanted to forget as soon as possible what happened yesterday and go on with your day.

You entered the bathroom and immediately noticed something on the sink. At first, you thought that Michael left his knife, probably forgetting it after your fight. But as you got closer, you realized that it was in fact…

A feather.

Frowning, you took it between your index and your thumb and turned it in front of your eyes. It was a long feather with red highlights. Some parts of it were covered in blood and you realized that Michael probably gruesomely killed the bird for the feather…But why?

Why would he bring a feather?

Slightly disgusted by how sticky the blood made it, you were about to throw it in the bin when sun rays hit it, illuminating its colors. It had a soft amber color, with a darker orange at the base. You stared at it and it suddenly reminded you of something. The baby fox. It was the same pretty color as its fur.

Could it be? Could it be that Michael, who didn’t understand your attachment to a baby animal, brought you something similar in color because he thought that was what made you keep it? Because, for someone who couldn’t feel like everyone else, who didn’t care about animals, this seemed like the only logical thing.

He thought you simply liked its color.

Your hand started shaking and disturbed, you finally threw it in the bin. No, you were making everything up. Michael would never think this far. He probably just liked the blood on it. He had no idea what a thoughtful gift was…Or what purpose it held.

You had to stop thinking about him.

---

 

 Friday

You called someone to fix your phone, as it was still broken since Michael destroyed it. This showed how many calls you got daily as you didn’t even remember it until now. But Jason asked for your house’s number in case he was late to pick you up so you had to have a functional one just in case.

A repairman came rather quickly, and you found yourself getting anxious about having someone over. Your thoughts kept spiraling around how you were putting him in danger by bringing him here. But as he was repairing your phone, you started relaxing, seeing that nothing was happening. It was sunny outside and you didn't feel watched or weirded out…

You weren't used to it.

Michael was gone. You had nothing to worry about.

You sighed in relief as you kept telling yourself that.

“So, do you need help with something else, ma'am?” The man asked as he screwed the new phone on its base.

You hummed thoughtfully for a bit, thinking about what could need some repair. Your eyes trailed on the TV in the living room and you paused.

“I'm just going to check if the electricity or the TV needs any repair.” You said, making your way into the living room.

The repairman nodded in agreement and kept on working on the phone. You grabbed the remote and turned on the television. It should work fine, but you rarely called someone to fix your stuff so better test it out now.

The screen lit up, showcasing the news.

“...Three people were killed last night in Haddonfield. Murdered in cold blood, two witnesses saw Michael Myers leaving the crime scenes.” A news reporter stated, holding a mic under her chin, “The two other murders from a few days ago are still under investigation but police suspects–

You quickly turned off the screen and sighed.

“It works alright.” You muttered, your face darkening.

You didn’t want to think about it. But it seemed like everything around you inherently brought you back to Michael. You shook your head in dismay, and when the man told you he was done, you checked together the electricity panel, paid and thanked him for his work.

---

You did some chores to keep your mind busy. You still had a few hours before going to work and didn’t want to let your thoughts linger on the past events.

 Cleaning the kitchen was a must, as it seemed that there was dirt everywhere. But you were also using a lot of firewood to keep you warm in the evening so you had to cut some more.

Putting on a pair of boots and a warm wooly sweater, you went outside to get your axe. Condensation left your mouth as soon as you went outside and evaporated in the air. You noticed that singular and “spicy” smell left by the cold, mixed with the damp and earthy smell of the forest. You wondered if you should go for a walk today.

Chop , did the axe as it sank into the wood. It split in two and you gathered the two pieces to throw them on your pile. You wondered if you should chop more than usual in case Jason stayed over tomorrow.

You blushed at that last thought. No, he probably would leave as soon as that dinner was over. He wasn’t the kind to stay over after…was he? Or maybe you could invite him…What would he think of you then? 

You shook your head, thinking that you had the thoughts of a highschooler.

You threw another piece of wood on your pile but this time, it fell over and rolled a bit further towards the forest. You sighed and grunted, and bent down to grab it after making a few steps.

As you stood up, you caught a glimpse of a human shape, deeper into the woods. It looked like a tall man, and your heart raced instantly when you saw that his head was white.

You straightened your back, your axe in one hand, the firewood in the other.

“What are you doing here?” You growled, tensing up, “I told you I didn’t want to see you again. And-and, you even got into my house yesterday night!”

You somehow felt that rotten part of you swelling in relief which made you even angrier. No, he couldn’t be here. You were so close to your goal, he couldn’t come back now.

“Go away, Michael!” You shouted, and a panicked murder of crows flew away in the distance, startled by the noise.

Michael didn’t seem to move, standing straight just where you spotted him first. You felt like he was mocking you, making a fool of you, staring at you from far away. You snarled and dropped the wood but kept the axe.

You started walking in his direction, your feet sinking deep in the icy mud of the woods.

“Don’t you understand?” You said, pushing the branches away as you went deeper, “There is nothing between us ! We are…we are not even a thing.”

You almost stumbled, your foot getting caught in a root and you angrily muttered “fuck…”. Even being halfway there, Michael had still not moved.

“ Typical Michael… ”, you thought.

You wondered if you should use your axe on him. If you should end things right here, right now. No one would ever know. No one would even miss him.

Is that so? The voice asked.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of it. You didn’t like Michael. You just wanted to forget him.

When you finally reached him, you noticed that there was something weird with his face. As you drew nearer, the outline of his body began to distort. The sharp angles and familiar silhouette warped and shifted. It was then you realized – the figure wasn’t human at all. The branches intertwined like fingers, and the trunks had clustered together, casting a deceptive shadow that mimicked the shape of Michael. The white shape of his mask was in fact, a spot of white lichen on a trunk.

Your eyes opened wide as a wave of relief washed over you, mixed with embarrassment at your own fright. You chuckled nervously, shaking your head as you stepped back from the eerie illusion.

“I’m so stupid…” You muttered, loosening your grip on your axe.

You might just be slightly obsessed with him…just slightly, the voice murmured.

You frowned and mentally ordered it to shut up. You weren’t…obsessed with this psycho. You didn’t want him here. But seeing his shape in the branches of a tree…Were you really going insane? A shiver ran down your spine.

You angrily cut the twigs and branches making the shape of his body with your axe and walked away. This was so embarrassing. You couldn’t believe you just made a fool of yourself…alone!

“I really need a break…” You thought to yourself as you left the forest, “I will greatly need this day off tomorrow…as well as this dinner.”

---

 

Saturday

You woke up feeling tired. Which wasn’t, like, a new thing, but you even woke up later than usual and still felt like you didn’t sleep at all. You had nightmares…You couldn’t remember what they were about but there was blood. A lot of blood. And it was the only thing you could remember.

You called Bianca, who also happened to have her day off today to do some shopping. Bianca happily obliged and came rather quickly to take you to Haddonfield. You said you needed new clothes for a date and it was enough for her to be already on your doorstep. You both took her car and decided to spend the afternoon together.

---

Haddonfield wasn’t a big city but it was nice enough to enjoy the ride or the walk along it. It had nice shops which were worth the trip, it was overall a lovely town. Though, the number of houses surrounded by a yellow tape bearing “police line do not cross” would have dissuaded more than a few people from buying a house here. You were even surprised that people could still move freely.

As Bianca turned right on a somewhat empty street, you noticed a house, which stood out compared to the rest of the neighbourhood.  

It was a two-story structure, its weathered gray siding dulled by years of exposure to the elements. The paint was chipped in places, revealing patches of bare wood that gave the house an almost ghostly appearance.

The front yard was overgrown, the grass a tangled mass of weeds and wildflowers that seemed to have taken over the once-manicured lawn. A dilapidated house that appeared to darken everything around it, a gloomy atmosphere surrounding it.

You frowned and stared at it as the car went past it.

“What's that ?” You asked Bianca who didn't seem to have noticed.

“Oh, it's the Myers house.” She said naturally, keeping her eyes on the road. She paused, but notocing that you were staring at her in confusion she continued,“I thought you knew about it, but I remember that you barely go to Haddonfield. It's where Michael Myers killed his first victim. It got abandoned since.”

You blinked a few times, realizing that you didn't do much research on Michael before. You knew he was a serial killer. You knew that he was hospitalized for it. But it didn't occur to you that he actually had something else beyond that.

The Myers house…was it where he used to live?

“His first victim…?” You repeated thoughtfully, your eyes following the house as it disappeared in the rear-view mirror.

“He killed his own sister when he was only six.” She said in a lower tone.

Silence lingered in the car, as the horror of these last words settled in. Sometimes, you forgot how truly terrifying Michael was, but reality always nudged you to make sure you remembered.

You welcomed with relief the shopping alleys appearing before you and both of you moved on, eager to think about something else. Bianca seemed to know where she was going and you followed along happily. You had not gone shopping in a while and it reassured to have someone that was familiar with the place.

Surprisingly, you found something for you there. Your eyes fell on it because of the softness of the material, and then the color caught you. It was your favorite color. You tried it on and it unexpectedly fitted you perfectly, making you look both sexy and confident. Bianca agreed with you when you said you were going to buy it.

“You’re going to make Jason lose his mind.” she joked.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise.

“How did you know it was with Jason?”

Bianca rolled her eyes.

“All the nurses know about it. They all heard Jason say he had a date on Saturday and they all knew it was with you because it was your day off. Could have been me. But we all know who Jason only has eyes for!” She smiled, putting her hands on your shoulders as you looked at yourself in the mirror of the shop with your new outfit.

You blushed and stared at your reflection. You looked pretty. You had not felt like this in a while. You were looking forward for tonight.

You took one last look at your chest, butt, and legs in these clothes and a thought popped in your mind, so small you barely realized you were saying it:

Would Michael find me pretty as well if it were with him?

---

Bianca took you back home after your little shopping trip and wished you the best for tonight. You thanked her for today and left the car with a smile on your face.

You were on a really good start. You hoped tonight was even better.

As you got inside your house, you instantly felt tired and yawned. Shopping was nice but for someone who barely did it, it was exhausting. You couldn't wait for someone to invent a way to do shopping at home and have it shipped to your place…as if it could happen someday !

You still had plenty of time before your date so you decided to chill a bit. After putting your new clothes in your room, you made yourself some tea and sat on the couch of your living room. Without realizing it, you dozed off and slowly laid down on your cushions, your tea still steaming on your coffee table.

You saw yourself sleeping on the couch, your mouth slightly opened as you breathed deeply. It was strange to see yourself like that but you figured that it was dream magic. As you observed the details of your own face, you noticed a shadow covering you entirely. It slided in silence above your sleeping body, until all of it shrouded you in darkness. The shadow was so tall and large that it didn't take you long to know who it belonged to. But as you turned your head to see who's feet it was attached to, you were surprised to find…a little boy.

He stood in front of the couch, arms resting on each side of his small body, wearing dark blue coveralls. His eyes were empty, dark as night, two black holes swallowing anything in its path, but staring at your body on the couch with a purpose. His shadow was way too big for his little body.

“Michael?” You thought, somehow unable to speak.

He didn't seem to see you, nor to hear you. He slowly walked towards your body and stopped when his head reached your face. He stared at you some more, no emotion showing on his juvenile face. It made you uncomfortable, even though you weren't currently inhabiting this body. 

He suddenly leaned forward and raised his small hand to cup his mouth. As his lips almost touched your ear he whispered something.

Your spirit’s head was not directly next to him and yet, you heard his voice, clear as day, loud despite the whisper, echoing in your ear.

“Run.”

You woke up in an instant, bolting upright as a loud gasp escaped your lips. You instinctively pressed a hand against your chest, feeling the rapid thud of your heartbeats. You looked around but saw that there was no little boy next to you and that you were back inside your body.

“Well…That was scary…” You thought, trembling slightly.

You still couldn’t believe how loud his voice was. It felt so real.

You looked outside and saw that the night was settling in. As it was soon winter, days got shorter and daylight died early in the evening. Your cup of tea was now cold and when you looked at the clock, you saw that you had two hours to get ready for your date. You started to panic a bit, getting up as you wondered if you would have enough time to get ready.

Brushing off this weird dream, you quickly went up the stairs to take a shower.

---

You looked at yourself in the mirror, pulling a lock of hair behind your ear. You had your brand new outfit on, pretty shoes to go with it, smelling of peach vine soap and probably anxiety. You looked like someone from a magazine.

Was it too much?

Your finger trailed on your cheek, following your smile lines and the edges of your lips. You barely dressed like that anymore. Would Jason think that you look so much like someone else, that you don’t even look like yourself anymore?

You sighed and flattened the folds on your dress in frustration. You were thinking too much. At this rate, you would be unable to have a normal discussion with Jason throughout your date. You looked good, it was all that mattered.

You glanced at the clock in the corner of your room and saw that you still had a bit less than an hour before he arrived. Welp, you ended up being ready way too early. Maybe you could get yourself a glass of wine to relax while waiting? It was better than to stay trapped in your own thoughts.

You twirled in front of your mirror, posing and faking interactions with your reflection.

“Oh Jason, thank you so much for the flowers!” You purred, clasping your hands together as you looked at an imaginary bouquet, “You shouldn’t have!”

You sneered, thinking that, more than your physique, you were really losing your personality now. You heard a noise downstairs which stopped you in your theatrical representation. You took one last look at yourself and left your bedroom. You weren’t sure what that noise was. It sounded like iron creaking, like something rusty being moved. Maybe an animal outside?

You carefully walked along the corridor and as you approached the stairs, the lights went off.

Surprised, you were momentarily blind and realized that there wasn’t a single source of light in your whole house.

“The power shut down?” you wondered.

It was so dark, you weren’t sure where the stairs were anymore. You raised your hands in an attempt to fathom the space around you. A feeling of dread slowly clawed its way inside your guts, telling you that something was wrong. How could this be possible? You checked the fuses with the electrician and nothing was wrong.

You were scared to fall down the stairs so you stepped back carefully. But just as you made your second step, your back hit something. The wall? You pressed your hand against it and discovered in great horror that you were in fact touching clothes.

But clothes couldn’t just be here.

Someone was wearing them.

There was someone with you in the corridor.

You didn’t have time to scream, before you could react, a heavy, rough hand clamped down over your mouth, stifling your gasp. Your heart jumped in your chest and you immediately tried to yank the hand away, sinking your fingers into their flesh. But that man -considering how tall that person was since your head reached the middle of his chest- was strong and wouldn’t budge.

His other arm wrapped around your waist and you found yourself trapped against him. Your breath quickened, a mix of fear and confusion swirling within you. What was he doing here? What did this man want?

Despite your efforts, he started dragging you in a room nearby and you tried to fight his grip, but were unsuccessful. As you were moaning under his hand and trying to kick his shins, you heard his deep, peaceful breathing, slightly stifled by something over his mouth and your body stiffened.

It was Michael.

This thought pierced your mind in the span of a second. You could recognize this breathing anywhere, you were sure of it. You stretched your neck to stare at his face, despite his huge hand on your jaw restricting your movements. His white mask stared back at you and your heart sank.

What was he doing here?

Did he know about the date?

Why now?

You didn’t have time for his shenanigans! Panic turned into anger and you started hitting his arm so he would let go of you.

“Michael, let me go!” You tried to say, your words coming out as “ hmhum hemheemho ” since he still had not let go of your mouth.

Michael didn’t seem moved by your orders and kept on dragging you in a corner, squeezing you tightly against him. You didn’t know what his deal was but you didn’t want to wait to find out. You were about to sink your teeth into his palm when he suddenly threw you in a closet. You yelped but just as you turned around to complain, he pressed his hand back on your mouth, pushing you against the bottom of the closet. It wasn’t violent but he was firm and you were basically screwed to the wooden planks.

You stared at him in confusion, not knowing what his intentions were. Was he angry? Was he punishing you? Why did he come back all of a sudden? Your heart was pounding inside your chest, as you desperately tried to read anything into the two dark holes of his mask.

Michael stood motionless before you, his hand like a rock on your face. You thought that he was going to give you one of his famous intense stares but for once he wasn’t looking at you. He turned his gaze towards the darkened hallway, his body coiling like a spring.

You frowned, thinking that his behavior was really weird and unusual. You were about to push him away and ask what all that was about, when he suddenly raised his other hand and a shiver ran down your spine when you saw he was holding a knife. You wondered if he was going to stab you. But he simply brought it to his face and in a very human gesture, you saw him raising his index finger to put it in front of his mouth, tilting his head on the side as he did.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise.

 He was shushing you.

Michael was asking you to be silent.

You were speechless. You stared at his hand with even more confusion and shook your head, telling him you had no idea what was going on. You couldn’t read any kind of emotion in his body language. You were starting to get scared.

Michael looked on the side once more then took your wrist. Dumbfounded, you let him do it. He turned your hand around so your palm was facing upward, and for the first time in a long time, he started writing something inside of it. Michael…Communicating twice in such a short amount of time? You were starting to get really anxious.

 His index moved slowly, tracing letter after letter, and when he stopped and your brain assimilated the word written on your skin, your heart stopped.

You raised a panicked gaze in his direction but Michael didn’t seem willing to comfort you. You took one last glance at your palm, realization settling in as your thoughts started spiraling on that simple word.

M-A-N

Your eyes slowly trailed in the direction of the hallway, just where Michael was looking a few moments prior. The oppressive silence shattered with a distant sound—a crash, the unmistakable noise of someone forcing their way into your house.

Notes:

I promise that the smut will be back soon I SWEAR
But I also said that this was porn with plot so I have to focus on the plot too LMFAO
Anyway, thank you for those who still follow this fanfiction, I'm very grateful!
Your comments always bring me joy <3

Chapter 16: Hide and seek

Summary:

Hmmm sprinkling some Rob Zombie Michael Myers in here

Notes:

Thank you for the lovely comments !
Sorry for the cliffhangers...I just like those too much it seems teehee
Happy holidays everyone !

Michael stood before you in complete inertia, his broad shoulders filling the door frame. After what felt forever, he quietly removed his hand, probably thinking that you had digested this new information enough. Your heart knocked hard against your chest, and you knew it was solely because of Michael being close to you again. You took a deep breath and tried to control your breathing as you felt panic overwhelming you.

Someone was here.

You couldn’t believe it.

Surely this was fake, right? Surely, Michael was the only intruder here?

You gave him a questioning look, your eyes begging for answers, but only met the cold, emotionless stare of his eyeless mask.

Another sound came from the kitchen and you shuddered. Whoever was there, was definitely inside and confirming you that you weren’t alone. Your body stiffened with fear and you sank deeper among the hanged clothes. Michael didn’t react but slowly turned his head in the direction of the noise. He looked calm despite the urgency with which he threw you in the closet. Was he here…to protect you? Was it why he was shoving you inside a closet? You didn’t know how to feel about this.

Michael suddenly started closing the doors of the closet and you raised your hands in an attempt to stop him.

“Wait, wait!” You whispered frantically, “You’re not going to leave me there, are you?”

Michael stopped in his movement to stare at you. He paused, then continued to close the doors.

“Michael!” You quietly fussed, “Don’t !”

This time, he stopped and the way his body instantly immobilized somehow intimidated you.  Your heart seemed ready to burst out of its cage made of bones. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to stay. After all, you told him that you didn’t want to see him again. But you were scared...And maybe you needed him. You pursed your lips, retreating slightly and raised an embarrassed gaze in his direction.

Against all odds, Michael leaned closer, and the soft, faint scent of the woods and something metallic encased you like a shroud. You felt a chill, like a murmur traveling your body, reminding you of that strange bond linking you and him. Michael's gaze held you for a moment, the silence thick with unspoken words. You were struggling to figure out this gesture. Was he telling you to stay quiet? Or was he telling you that he would be back?

You swallowed with difficulty and closed your mouth. You nodded, as in agreement, telling him that you understood you should stay here. This seemed to satisfy Michael as he slowly pulled away. You watched the doors close in front of your nose, heart racing as you were left in the dark.

You heard him walking away from the closet, then leaving the room.

You stood in your closet in total silence, with only the sound of your blood thumping in your ears for company.

You waited, thoughts swirling in your mind. Was there really someone downstairs? Was it a burglar? If so, why was Michael hiding you here? Were they armed?

You thought about Jason. The date was in an hour, you couldn’t let him in. He could get killed…and if it wasn’t by Michael, the burglar might do it instead. You had to access your phone downstairs and call him…And maybe the police.

You sighed, wondering how long you were going to wait. The sweater next to you was itchy and you were starting to feel cramped in here. Should you wait for Michael’s return? But what if he never returned?

Well, he always came back to you.

You paused.

Was it always going to be like this?

You, waiting in fear in the dark anytime someone entered your home uninvited? 

What drove every psychopath to your home?

It was unfair.

You felt like you had to be angry against someone, but there was no culprit for you to unleash your anger on. You sighed and shook your head.

Overthinking was your worst enemy.

Ten minutes went by without anything happening. You could hear a noise downstairs from time to time but were unable to identify what it was. If Michael had attacked the intruder you would have heard it. So what was he doing?

Curiosity got the best of you and after a few seconds of indecision, you quietly opened the doors. The creaking of the hinges echoed in the silence and you looked around, your head peeking out slightly. Your eyes were getting accustomed to the darkness and you could now see at least some of the details of the room.

You stepped out of the closet cautiously, almost afraid to find the burglar in front of you. You heard the wood creaking somewhere and you froze. Your heart was ready to burst out of your chest. 

It took you a few seconds to get a grip on yourself. Tip-toing, you reached the doorway and stretched your neck to look at the end of the corridor.

Empty.

You swallowed your spit anxiously. There was a heavy tension hanging in the air, like the smell of rain before a storm. The house was swallowed by darkness, each room a void where silence pressed heavily against the walls.You couldn’t hear any noise anymore which increased that feeling of dread, rooting itself inside your chest.

You stood in the hallway, feeling completely vulnerable. You wished you had your scalpel, or anything to protect yourself. Something was very wrong, you could feel it.

You could barely see a few feet ahead of you and felt like invisible hands stretched around you, waiting for you to fall into insanity. You looked down at your own hands and saw they were shaking. You curled your fingers into fists and took a deep breath. You couldn’t let fear get to you.

You had to find Michael, or you were going to lose it.

You also had to find a way to bring the power back on. For that, you needed to go outside and find the fuzes. You couldn’t stay in the dark like that. You somehow figured that whoever entered this house, wasn’t just a simple burglar. For all the time they had been there, you didn’t hear them looking through your stuff once. Nothing breaking, no drawer being pulled. And what kind of burglar would rob a house where all the lights were on? Something didn’t add up.And they were using the darkness to stay hidden.

And maybe Michael understood that before you.

You heard the creak of a floorboard downstairs and you shuddered. Frozen into place, you took a glance at the ground floor and sighed in relief when you saw Michael standing in front of the stairs. He wasn’t looking at you but instead, scanned intensely the living room, standing very still, his knife in hand. He was guarding the stairs, leading to you.

You felt a little bit safer with him. Despite everything, you actually didn’t want him to leave this time.

“Michael.” You whispered, trying to catch his attention.

You had the urge to stay close to him. You could feel your body getting pulled towards him like a magnet and even though you despised it, you still couldn’t help it. 

Michael didn’t seem to hear you, his gaze focused on something out of your sight. He seemed tense, yet, he reminded you of a spider waiting on its web. Waiting to catch a nasty bug between its mandibles.

You heard something metallic scraping against some wooden object, somewhere downstairs. And this time, Michael tilted his head on the side quietly. He stepped forward and walked out of sight, towards where the noise came from.

You strained your ears, listening to the muted sound of his movements. After a little while you didn’t hear anything anymore. You were almost tempted to lean on the railing to see what was going on but didn’t feel safe enough to approach the stairs. Should you go help him? You weren’t really in an outfit to fight. You were probably going to be more of a burden.

Suddenly, a door slammed downstairs. You shuddered, holding your breath. You could hear rapid movements and loud thuds, signs of a fight happening behind a closed door. You wondered if you should run for the fuse panel outside but felt frozen into place.

The sounds died rather quickly and after a few seconds, silence came back in the house. You waited, your heart racing. What happened? Did Michael kill the intruder?

Downstairs, a door creaked open. You stopped breathing.

“Michael?” You called.

No answer.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad sign though.

You heard slow footsteps and distinguished movements in the dark. Finally, you recognized the white mask of Michael appearing among the darkness and a sense of pure relief filled you.

“Did you…kill him?” You asked, stepping forward.

Michael paused at the end of the stairs and raised his head to stare at you. You were taken aback by the huge amount of blood splattered all over his mask. It dripped down the edges, staining his black jacket.

You frowned.

Jacket ?

You watched him approaching and the more he climbed up the stairs, the more you felt like something was wrong. You saw the way his shoulders moved, with too much width. His arms moved from each side of his body with an emotion, you never saw him with. When he finally reached the upper floor, you realized that the man before you was wearing jeans and combat boots.

It wasn’t Michael.

It was someone wearing his mask. His blood.

Was Michael…?

Your heart sank.

So easily ?

No, he couldn’t be dead. He was unkillable, he was a force of nature…right ?

Your eyes darted to the machete he held in his hand and opened wide. The man paused to reposition the mask better on his face and you saw his shoulders shaking.

He was quietly laughing under the mask.

Your breathing fastened and without breaking eye contact, you stepped back. This man wasn’t here to rob you. You felt that hot, burning, tension rising in the air, something you knew too well.

Murder intents.

Blood pooled at the end of your fingertips, pumping adrenaline wherever it could. A red light bulb lit inside your head, screaming “danger”. He was here to kill you, and not in a merciful way. Anger and resentment filled your head. Why did bloodthirsty killers always found a way inside your home? This was getting tedious. 

Something snapped, like a thin, invisible, thread hanging in the air and you started running in the opposite direction when the man lunged forward.

A room at the end of the corridor had a lock. You wouldn’t be able to run past him without getting hurt so you had to lock yourself there. This was your only chance.

You stretched your hand forward, in hope to reach the doorknob in time. But you felt a huge hand grabbing your hair and you let out a scream. The man pulled you towards him and your whole body was thrown back, your fingernails scraping helplessly against the doorknob. You felt like your scalp was going to be ripped off your skull and yelled in pain.

“Let me go!” You whined, clawing at his hand painfully holding your hair.

This was happening again. You were in the murderous hands of a man…again.

No.

He threw you on the floor behind him and pain exploded in your side as the cold ground bit into your skin. You gasped for air and tried to stand up but the man drew a powerful kick on your solar plexus, pushing your remaining breath out. A croaked moan escaped your lips as you hit the ground a second time. You shut your eyes tightly, the pain resonating throughout your whole body.

This couldn’t be happening.

You weren’t helpless !

You killed before and could do it again.

Opening, wide, bloodshot eyes, you glared at him as he stood above you, nodding slightly in approval. He was being cocky with that…This was laughable. The machete shined in the darkness, and as he kneeled, he started caressing your bare skin with it, taunting you with the cold metal of the blade. He pressed the knife under your pretty clothes, playing with the fabric. He seemed interested in what you were wearing which you didn’t appreciate very much. After a while, he trailed the blade alond your collarbones and a few drops of blood bubbled out of the thin wound.

“You’re not special, someone did that before already.” You thought.

Without hesitating, and despite the pain in your chest, you firmly grabbed his arm holding it and sank your teeth deep into his skin. Your rage fueled your jaws and you felt his hot, metallic blood filling your mouth as your canines and incisors pierced his skin.

You didn’t know you could do that.

But it felt good.

Taken aback by your sudden violent outburst, the man shuddered and tried to free his arm. The more he moved, the more his skin was ripped by your unforgiving teeth and he grunted in pain. You motionned towards his weapon and this time, he freed himself by pulling his arm hard enough. Some of his skin got stuck in your mouth and you spitted it out, blood dripping down all over your lips.

You heard him growling slightly in annoyance and he striked you with the handle of his machete. You hiccuped, seeing a flash of red as it hit your head. You lost your vision for a moment and fell limply back on the ground.

He got you good.

The pain radiated inside your head and you struggled to keep your eyes open. A distant ringing echoed in your ears and you moaned in pain, feeling nauseous. You felt on the verge of passing out.

A primal, survival instinct pushed you to open your eyelids and trembling, your head bobbing a few times, you tried to look at him. Your vision blurry, you saw him as Michael, your brain making the connection with the mask he was wearing. You felt like you were back to the night Michael came back to kill you. He was above you just like him, holding his knife in the air. But he didn’t strike you. He never did.

Michael would never kill you.

But maybe you were supposed to die that night and faith decided today that you were going to die that way anyway.

The man raised his machete above his head, aiming for your chest, his arm and hand entirely covered in blood. You didn’t have the strength anymore to stop him. You had no weapon, no one coming to help you.

How you wished you could have killed him.

How you wish you could kill anyone who made you feel vulnerable.

Your dearest wish.

You took a deep breath, just as you saw him gripping the handle tighter.

You closed your eyes, leaning into that delightful dizziness.

Then a loud thud.

You opened your eyes weakly, just in time to see a sturdy boot striking the man in the throat. He gargled a surprised moan and was thrown back, a few meters back.

Blinking in confusion, you slowly turned your head back. The vision you got was as terrifying as it was powerful.

You saw Michael standing behind you as he brought his leg back slowly under him. His upper body was slightly hunched, his long hair falling in front of his face, covering it entirely instead of his missing mask. His breathing was deep and calm, as always, but slightly hoarse, like a strained animal. The stillness of his body seemed even more unhinged and exagerated than before which emphasized his inhuman nature. He looked like a monster from a children's book, from a nightmare you wished to forget in the morning.

You couldn’t believe he was here.

“Michael…” You breathed, unable to move, an obvious hint of relief in your voice.

Michael didn’t look down, and it almost seemed like he actually didn’t hear you. Through the dirty locks of hair, you caught a glimpse of his eye. The dark, widened pupil, like a hollow eye socket, stared unblinkingly in front of him, at the man coughing on the floor. It looked like the eye of a predator, staring both with a purpose and an emptiness that defined it.

He breathed deeply, tilting his head on the side and you finally noticed something protruding from his coveralls. It looked like a wooden handle, lodged in the left side of his chest.

You realized with pure horror that it was the handle of his knife, the blade entirely embedded in his skin. Blood was pouring out of the wound and dripping on the floor.

The blood on his mask…

Looking seemingly unbothered by it, Michael stepped forward, each of his steps heavy as he forced his wounded body into action. He walked past you, determined to reach this other killer. You wanted to sit up but quickly gave up, feeling your head throb. 

Michael stopped in front of the man, who seemend rather surprised to find him alive. Just recovering from his crushed tracchea, he tried to get back on his feet and started swinging his machete around, eyes widening in fear under the mask.

But Michael wasn’t having it.

With all the calm that defined him, Michael grabbed him by the jacket and brutally slammed his body against the ground, straddling him. The man moaned in pain and tried to defend himself by grabbing Michael’s arms but didn’t expect him to be so strong. Unfazed, the shape slammed him a second time, with even more strength, and you saw his head taking a hard blow. This must have made him dizzy because he now struggled to hit him with the machete.

Relentlessly, Michael kept bringing his whole body down, each time harder than the last, and you were sure you heard a few bones cracking. The noise his body made while hitting the floor was so loud, you could barely imagine the pain that he was in. The man looked like a ragdoll, losing more and more control over his body. It was impressive how silent he stayed throughout this mistreatment. The mask was almost out of his face and you wanted to get closer to see who it was but couldn’t bring yourself to get up.

The machete was sent flying after another hit against the hard surface of the floor and this time, Michael slowed down. His huge, bloody, hand came to grab his throat to maintain him into place while the man groggily tried to hit his arm. His other free hand, slowly reached for the knife stuck into his shoulder, fingers gripping the hilt. The blade resisted for a moment, the metal scraping against flesh, creating a sickening, wet sound that echoed in the silence—like a low, drawn-out groan of agony.

With a sudden, forceful pull, the knife finally came free, a wet pop accompanying its release. Blood trickled down his arm, but he paid it no mind. Crimson droplets splattered onto the floor as he turned his head, his gaze locking onto his opponent.

With an incredibly fluid motion, Michael raised the knife before thrusting it forward. But the man below him, rolled on the side to protect himself and the knife embedded in the floorboards instead with a dull thud.

With a panicked breathing, he pushed Michael who was momentarily thrown back. He jolted back on his feet and avoiding Michael –who wasn’t fast enough– he started sprinting towards the stairs. You flinched as he ran past you, but weren’t able to do much, your head killing you. You heard something falling on the ground and when you lowered your gaze, you saw Michael’s mask on the ground.

You heard him running down the stairs and slamming the front door open. Straining your ears, you heard fast footsteps crushing dead leaves under their soles, but fortunately going away from your house. After a little while, silence was back, with only the sound of the cold wind howling in through the open door.

Michael turned around, and started following the man’s path, his killer and stalker instincts taking over. But as he walked past you, you shook your head.

“No, Michael.” You grunted, “Let him go.”

Michael seemed to remember that you were there, blinded by his bloodlust, and he finally turned his head in your direction. He paused, staring at you laying on the floor then made a few steps forwards. You thought that he wasn’t going to listen to you, but he silently reached down to get his mask. After putting it back on, he approached you and stopped, tilting his head on the side. He kind of motioned to grab you. You didn’t know if it was to help you or to put you in another closet but you dodged him.

“I’m fine.” You muttered, finally able to sit up. That was a surprise he actually stopped.

You moaned in pain and touched the spot where the man hit you and realized you were bleeding. Your head seemed ready to explode and it took you a while to actually stand up. You wobbly made your way to the stairs and painfully walked them down. Your vision was slightly blurry and you felt on the verge of passing out. But you had to get the power back on.

Once you reached the first floor, you took a glance at the open door, where a cold wind was coming in. You really hoped that he was gone…whoever this psycho was. A chill ran down your spine thinking that he might come back. But Michael probably scared him off. 

You were about to close the door when the phone rang and a high pitched scream escaped your lips. This triggered a new fit of pain inside your head and you moaned, trying to calm your frantic heartbeats.

“Oh my God, what…?” You muttered, holding your head.

You struggled to reach the handset but eventually managed to pick up the phone. You glanced at Michael who was staring through the window, looking for the man who escaped. You still had to figure out how the hell he got here and how you could make him leave.

“Yes?” You asked, feeling your throbbing headache increasing.

“(Y/N)?” The voice in the handset answered and your eyes opened wide when you realised that it was Jason, “I’m sorry for the sudden call, I’m going to be late because I had paperwork to finish at the hospital and I apologize. But I’m on my way now !” He explained and you could feel a hint of shame in his voice.

You shook your head as if he could see you. Your heart sank but you knew you couldn’t let him come. Now was really not a good time.

“I-I’m sorry Jason, can we postpone it for another day…? I’m…I’m not feeling good.”

There was a silence in the handset which made you feel even more guilty.

“Are you okay ?”

His voice sounded stern. You noticed that Michael was now staring at you and you remembered what happened last time you tried to call someone. You cleared your throat, feeling dizzier.

“Y-Yeah I’m going to lay down tonight. Don’t come.”

You abruptly hung up, hoping that it would be enough for him to give up on this dinner. He probably hated you now. You sat on your feet and moaned, now feeling both hurt physically and emotionally. Your head was about to explode.

Michael started walking slowly in your direction and you inhaled sharply.

“This is all…your fault !” You snapped, anger and sadness filling your heart.

He stopped in his tracks and stared at you. He didn’t seem moved by your sudden outburst.

 What was he even thinking right now? This silence…You couldn’t stand it anymore. He was always silent, always staring…with his empty, soulless eyes. Always coming back to you. Why ? This couldn’t go on like that. You were losing it.

You were about to snap at him again when you suddenly felt faint. Your heart raced, pumping burning blood in your temples. You collapsed on the ground, your legs giving way, and saw that everything around you was spinning. Your head was just a bloody mass of pain. It felt so heavy. You let out a quiet sob. It was so painful.

Your eyes rolled back in their orbits as your vision faded to black, and without knowing, you fell into unconsciousness.

As your head hit the cold wooden floor, Michael approached. After watching you for a bit, tilting his head on the side as he did, he kneeled down next to you. His massive hand came to touch the blood on your forehead. He breathed deeply, looking at the blood shining on his fingertips.

A few seconds passed. He turned his head in the direction of the front door, paused for a bit, then focused his gaze back on you. He stared some more at your unconscious body then silently slided his hands under you.

He stood up, carrying you in his arms, your head bobbing freely behind his elbow. He started walking towards the back door, which was slightly open. As he passed the doorway, and went into the cold of the night, you hummed slightly and he stared at you. You didn’t wake up. He continued his path.

And disappeared into the dark forest.

Notes:

AAAnnd...No porn again. Well...unless you like violence porn...I love writing gore I'm sorry
The plot thickens...kinda ? Where is he taking Reader?? You ALL know where <3
...
I'll get back to writing smut.

Chapter 17: The spider's nest

Summary:

Michael plays with his doll

Notes:

Guys you wouldn't believe it but I was looking for a job and then I found a job and heaven knows I'm miserable now 😔
Sorry for the wait, I heard your cries but I was working and couldn't find the time to write! I desperately missed it though...Here is a big chapter just for you...with a surprise...to amend for it ! Enjoy

The sound of rain.

It was the first thing you heard when you emerged from your deep slumber.

Rain pattered on wooden shutters, slightly muffled as if you were behind closed walls.

You listened to it, allowing your thoughts and mind to find themselves again. Your eyelids fluttered and your eyes adjusted to seeing again, after a long time immersed in darkness. 

Where were you ?

The bed creaked ominously as you shifted, the mattress sagging in the middle. You blinked against the haze of sleep and frowned. 

You raised your eyes and saw the ceiling. It bore a dusty grey color, with a large brownish stain in a corner which was without a doubt caused by water damage. Cracks ran through it like roads on a map and when you lowered your gaze, you saw peeling wallpaper on the walls with a faded floral pattern. 

A broken chair sat in a corner near –what seemed to be – an old and shabby vanity. You raised your head and saw the wooden shutters that were in fact nailed shut.

What was this place? An abandoned house ?

You sat up and instantly let out a groan of pain, holding your head. It still hurt. Your face was sticky with blood. But at least you didn’t feel dizzy anymore. You couldn’t remember what happened after the phone call. You hung up and then…

You looked around and saw that you were alone in the room. Was Michael with you ? How did you end up here ?

Did the man from last night bring you here ?

Feeling that something was wrong with your clothes, you looked down and saw that your outfit was torn on the side. One of the buttons was missing and it obviously only stayed in place because you were sitting down. You groaned in annoyance and removed the bottom part. You were now in your lace underwear with only your –still beautiful despite the trails of blood splattered on it– top to protect you from the cold. You hoped to find something to wear later.

 You stood up carefully, making sure that your legs held you steady and approached the window. The smell of rain came through it and you looked through the blinds. You could see a street outside, dimly lit up by streetlights, as night was starting to settle in –or day?. Despite the small view it offered, you recognized the street. You went past it with Bianca the other day. This street, with the strange and gloomy house.

The Myers house.

Your heart raced and you inhaled sharply when realization hit. Your eyes fell on the vanity and its broken light bulbs before staring at the dirty wallpaper. You were in the Myers house. It had to be it.

You paused, allowing yourself to digest this new information. What were you doing here ? Did Michael…bring you here? But why?

You shook your head, trying to repress a chill. There just were too many questions. You didn’t even know who attacked you and why. But you wanted to find out eventually.

You inhaled deeply and decided to explore the house and maybe find a way out. You made your way to a door in the room and opened it. It creaked open and you let out a sigh of relief, scared that you were locked in here for a split moment. 

The corridor that stretched before you was rather dark but you could see that it was as equally dilapidated as the room you were in. There were some broken planks in corners as well as random furniture and the air smelled musty. Charming.

“Michael ?” You tried, your head peeking out.

Your voice echoed inside the house which made you feel uneasy. You strained your ears but only heard the old wood creaking as an answer.

You stepped out of the room and walked towards, what seemed to be, a staircase. The handrail was almost completely gone, or leaning dangerously towards the empty side. You took a glance downstairs and saw that there was a living room and most importantly, an entrance with a front door.

You wondered what you should do once outside. Call the police ? Call someone to bring you home? But how could you explain the whole situation ? You didn't even know if there was a phone cabin nearby nor did you think you had any change.

Well…you had to try something anyway.

Just as you laid a foot on the first step, you heard the doorknob rattle. Your heart raced, and you started looking around for somewhere to hide, not knowing if you should trust whoever was coming in, all of your plans vanishing in a second. You retreated in the corridor you just came from but stayed a bit to see who it was.

The door slammed loudly in the silence of the empty house as the person behind it forced it open.

It was Michael.

Relief washed over you when you saw him stepping in.

 So he actually was the one who brought you here. You watched as he closed the door and put back some plank that sat on the side to block it. He had something in his hand which you didn’t recognize. Some kind of box.

When you saw his head starting to move in your direction, you quickly tiptoed your way to the room you left. You didn’t know why you were hiding like that. Maybe because you wanted to know what he was doing. Maybe because you didn’t know how he would react if he saw you out of the room he assigned you.

You silently closed the door and sat at the edge of the bed, waiting. You heard steps going up the stairs, slow and heavy. You felt yourself getting nervous and pressed your legs together, hands on your knees.

The footsteps stopped in front of your door and you held your breath. The door creaked open, revealing the tall and wide figure of Michael. He locked eyes with you, and you wondered if he was surprised to see you awake. In any case, he didn’t show anything and his statue-like appearance was maintained.

He stepped inside, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor in a deliberate and almost predatory rhythm.  There was something strange coming from him. A coldness, a tension, you didn’t recognize. Michael lowered his head and glanced at your naked legs. You blushed and clasped your hands above your underwear.

“I- , It ripped when I fell, I think.” You said, feeling the need to explain yourself.

As expected he didn’t answer –or didn’t care– and breathed slowly under his mask. You tried to catch his gaze but couldn’t see his eyes. If you knew him a bit better you would say that he seemed…distant. Was he mad at you ?

Was he still mad about the last time you saw him ? About what you told him ?

“Thank you…for helping me last night. I-I really appreciate it. But, why…am I here, Michael ?” You asked in hope to trigger a reaction.

He approached and you felt the intensity of his gaze, a mix of frustration and something deeper simmering beneath the surface. He looked almost menacing and you didn’t know why. He paused, the muscles of his physique accentuated in the low light, then threw something on the ground which stirred up a cloud of dust. The box you saw in his hands.

It was your med-kit. The one you kept at home.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise. He came back to your house? To take it?

“I don’t understand…” You said, raising your confused gaze to meet his, “If you wanted me to use my med-kit I could have stayed home. Why bring me here?”

Michael stared back at you in silence and you knew that if you didn’t try something else, you would never get an answer. You stood up from the bed and stretched your hand towards him, palm turned towards the sky. He seemed to hesitate, not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he didn’t seem willing to speak. You felt like handing your arm to a lion that could bite you at any second.

After an eternity, he raised his hand to write in your palm.

S-A-F-E

Safe ? You repeated in your head.

After a moment of pure confusion, it started to click inside. This house was…his childhood house. It was Michael’s own safe place. So after seeing a man intruding your home, he realized that your place was no longer safe for you, and brought you here.

A place where he could control your safety.

And you.

“...But I can’t stay here.” You breathed, shaking your head.

You opened your mouth to explain that you had a job and friends… but you instantly felt the tension getting heavier around you and immediately shut it. This didn’t please him. It was the second time that you told him you didn’t want to stay with him. You swallowed with difficulty as you saw his body language shifting slightly. He looked more tense for a moment and his head rose slightly.

He suddenly grabbed your hand that you were slowly lowering and yanked you towards him. You yelped, your blood shooting pure panic inside your veins. You bumped into his chest and gasped, darting terrified eyes towards his huge hand casting yours. He leaned forwards, his face inches from yours and your heart pounded inside your chest, feeling his hot breath on your skin again.

M-I-N-E

He wrote in your trapped hand, his finger digging in your tender skin to trace each letter. A reminder. Or rather, a threat.

Without further notice, Michael threw you on the bed. You gasped and bounced on the creaking mattress. Your eyes darted in his direction, suddenly afraid of his next move. But Michael only retreated in the corridor and slammed the door behind him. 

You heard a slight “click” under the doorknob and you understood that he just locked you in.

You dashed to the door and immediately slammed your fist against it.

“Michael!” You cried out, your fist repeatedly hitting the hard surface of the dirty wooden door, but could already hear him walking away.

“This psycho locked me in…” You thought in terror.

After realization settled in, you gradually stopped pounding and quietly sat on the bed. He had no intention of letting you go. You were utterly at his mercy.

What were you going to do now?

---

After half an hour passed, you calmed down a little, trying to rationalise your current situation.

 Michael obviously took advantage that you were in danger and passed out to have you for himself, in his creepy house. Playing nice apparently didn't work for him and he had enough of listening to you or your threats. You didn't know what he had planned for you now but you were pretty sure that this was only the beginning of his punition. So you had to be careful.

You stood up from the bed and kneeled next to your med-kit he had left on the floor. Looking around, you noticed that there was a door leading to a small bathroom. You could clean your wounds there. Your head still hurt and you knew it didn't look pretty.

The bathroom looked the same as the rest of the house unfortunately. The tiles -which must have been white at some point in their life- on the wall were cracked or lying in pieces on the floor. The toilets were begging for mercy and to be dusted, while the sink hung in a weird way against the wall.

A mirror above the sink seemed to resist the passage of time, allowing itself a few cracks but still holding into place.

You saw your reflection and you let out a sigh. Your face was covered in blood and a small yet deep wound rested on your forehead. Your hair looked like a rat nest and your once fancy clothes were torn in some places and stained with some blood droplets.

Well this explained the everlasting pain in your head.

You turned the handle and at first nothing happened. After a few seconds, a loud rumbling echoed behind the walls and some water gurgled out of the opening while the faucet trembled like it was possessed by the devil. The water was a bit brown at first but it became quickly clear and you were able to wash your face, hands and shoulders with barely any disgust.

You opened the med-kit and got out some disinfectant and some gauze. You cleaned your wound and put a rudimentary bandage on it so it wouldn't get infected. Finally, you brushed your hair as best as you could with your fingers and when you looked at yourself back in the mirror, you looked a little more human.

“Now…what?” You muttered to yourself, your darkened eyes looking for the answer in your own reflection.

You didn't hear any sign of Michael while you were in the bathroom and you actually wondered if he was in the house. This single thought made you shiver and you realized that you didn't actually like the idea of being alone here.

Maybe the other killer was still after you…

You felt scared but also resentful. Why were you the target of the local killers? You wondered who it was and why they chose you as their next victim. Michael was the only one who saw their face. You were pretty sure he would never describe them to you. But you wanted to get to the bottom of this. You wanted revenge. You wanted peace.

You found comfort in the sound of the rain outside, reminding you of your house in the woods, once tranquil, isolated, and dreamt of times where loneliness cradled you in her arms.

---

  You heard the sound of the door opening downstairs an hour later –or what felt like it. You might not have heard him leaving but apparently, you were right to think Michael wasn't in the house anymore.

You had been waiting on your bed, thinking about your life plummeting down, using the small flashlight in your med-kit as a nightstand lamp. You still didn't know what was the deal with Michael and what were his plans for you. You weren't that terrified of him anymore but his unpredictability had you on edge. You wondered if you could talk him out of getting you locked up in here.

You listened quietly and heard his heavy boots climbing up the stairs. The more you heard him getting closer to your door, the more you felt the hair on your arms rising. It was like your body knew he was coming, sending small signals to your brain, calling him.

He stopped in front of your door and you held your breath. You heard a small cliking sound in the keyhole and the door creaked open.

Michael stepped in silently and his eyes under the mask immediately landed on you, making you shiver. He looked…calmer. You couldn't explain why, but it felt like the swarm of bees of emotions inside of him quieted down.

You didn't say anything and watched him making his way to the bed. You locked eyes with him and he tilted his head on the side, looking perhaps surprised to see you calm as well.

He dropped something on the bed and you broke eye contact to see what it was.

A bag. Full of groceries.

Michael…went to the supermarket?

You failed to imagine him strolling through the alleys, looking down at his grocery list, and picking up items on the shelves. Puzzled, you took a better look at it. You noticed that there was a bare loaf of bread in the bag and an opened package of ham and you realized that this motherfucker stole your food in your house.

Well, at least, he brought you food.

You raised your gaze to stare at him and saw that he seemed to be waiting for a reaction or an answer, as he tilted his head on the other side. He had not moved an inch, looming over you like a gigantic crow.

 You cleared your throat and gave him a polite smile as you put the bag aside.

“Thank you for getting me…my own food.” You said.

This answer seemed to please him because he straightened his back slightly, giving you more room to breathe. Did he really think that you were going to be grateful and content because he got you food? In any other situation, yes, maybe. But you were literally locked in a rotting room by a very possessive serial killer.

Details to him, apparently.

Michael raised his arm to get something in the bag but stopped in mid movement. He lowered his head and seemed to stare questioningly at his own arm which was twitching lightly. He didn't seem to be able to move it well and you noticed the red hole in his chest, where a bit of fresh blood was coating the edges.

The stab wound the killer inflicted him.

Michael didn't feel it, but he probably needed medical care. You hesitated, because you knew that if he was weakened, you could escape more easily.

But deep down…You were thankful for him saving you and despite it all, your feelings for him couldn't be shut.

You sighed, cursing yourself for feeling pity for him when it was all his fault.

“Michael…let me take care of that.” You said softly, pointing at his chest.

Michael watched you getting the med-kit in the bathroom but didn't move. You stared back at him and seeing that he didn't understand what you told him, you jerked your chin in the direction of his arm.

“Your arm. I'll help you with that. Just lay down on the bed.”

Michael paused and stared at you silently, maybe considering the veracity of your words. After an endless amount of time, he appeared to comply and unzipped his coveralls to reveal his bare chest. Dry blood was coating half of it but he didn't seem to mind and laid down on the bed which cried out under his weight.

He seemed docile…But for how much longer?

As you approached, he slowly turned his head towards you. You were reminded of the time when he first arrived at your place. Passed out, wounded, and silently asking for help. His only functional eye, dark as night itself, stared at you intensely in the shadows of his mask.

You put the med-kit on the bedside table -or what was left of it- and started getting out what you needed to clean his wound. You could feel his gaze on you and when you glanced in his direction you saw him eyeing at your thighs. You remembered that you weren't wearing any pants anymore and your cheeks flushed red. Now was not the time to pay attention to this kind of thing. You were going to take care of him, and then you were going to bargain for your liberty.

The bedside table with your medical equipment was on the left side of the bed, while Michael's wound was on his left side, and so on your right. This didn't make it really comfortable because you had to lean across his entire body to reach it.

The stench of blood hung heavily in the air, making you dizzy. As you first tried to wipe away all this dry blood on his skin, you could feel his hot breath on your breasts. He breathed calmly and watched you with an icy gaze, his expression unreadable behind the mask.

You realized that being so close to him again made you nervous and you tried to focus on the task at hand, your heart knocking hard against your ribcage. You couldn’t ignore his breath on you, or how warm he felt to the touch. Something tickled your guts deep down, a feeling you would rather forget.

“This isn't really comfortable.” You said with a light chuckle, trying to make small talk as nervousness creeped inside you.

Michael kept his statue-like appearance, laying like a dead man on his back, and obviously didn't answer. But you caught a glimpse of his dark pupil slowly trailing towards your face, an indicator that he was in fact, listening. You felt like he was somehow ready to pounce at any moment. You couldn’t tell why. Maybe because he appeared too obedient. But your mind was telling you to not let your guard down.

As you were carefully applying gauze at the edge of his wound, he suddenly raised his chest. You moved back by instinct, but his huge hands came to grab your waist, stopping you from moving further. You yelped, feeling him lifting you in the air effortlessly. With a sudden, fierce motion, he shifted, forcing you to sit fully on him and your hands pressed against his chest for balance.

“W-What are you doing?” You squealed.

You heard him exhaling under his mask as he repositioned himself on the bed, keeping his hands on the junction where your thighs and hips met.

You stood still, not knowing what to do. You were now straddling him, and even if it was actually easier for you to work, you didn’t think that it was reasonable to stay like this. You tried to move but quickly realized that his hands firmly held you into place, and that he wanted you to continue but only like this. He laid motionless, waiting for you to proceed.

“He really is like a spoiled brat." You groaned inside your head, "He really wants things his way. Let's not make him mad for now.” You thought wisely.

You leaned forward and acted as nothing happened, wiping the blood off his skin. You tried to focus, you really did. But Michael seemed to have other plans for you, which made it difficult to think straight.

It was subtle, but you could feel his hands sliding down very slowly, reaching for your bare ass cheeks and feeling them. You darted suspicious eyes in his direction but his gaze was the same. Cold. Stolid.

You cleared your throat and moved on to applying disinfectant. You leaned on the side to drench some gauze with it then carefully applied it on and around the wound. It felt cold to the touch, which made a drastic contrast with the constant heat that radiated against your inner thighs. You felt like he was getting warmer under you.

You swallowed with difficulty.

Something was pressing against your crotch…getting harder by the seconds. A drop of sweat rolled down your temple. Really?

Michael, you…

You locked eyes with him and saw something shining at the bottom. It was only a flicker, you almost missed it. But it was definitely there.

Barely restrained amusement. 

This guy was simply deranged.

You continued to clean the wound without saying anything, not giving him the satisfaction to show your emotions. But it was hard to ignore his erection getting bigger under you and pulsing against your cunt. It bulged under his coveralls, pressing against your clit.

You exhaled deeply, feeling yourself getting aroused. It had been a long time since you and him had done anything. You could feel your body aching for sex right now. But it was not the time for this kind of activity. You were halfway done with your job, you could escape this.

You just hoped that he couldn't feel how wet you already were.

You leaned on the side again to grab something to dry the wound, avoiding his gaze. As you lifted your butt slightly to get it, Michael's hand left one of your thighs and you thought for a mere second that you could finally leave.

But he only used the space you created to unzip his coveralls more and free his throbbing cock. You instantly felt it pushing against your entrance. You froze and pushed on your knees to keep as much distance between you and it as you could. Michael raised his head slowly to stare at you. You could feel your cheeks warming up.

“Don’t look at me like that!” You scoffed, “I-I’m not doing it. I’m supposed to do something else, remember?”

It was always like that with him. He complied, only if he could get his way afterwards. You even wondered if he had this idea from the start. From watching you getting your equipment ready. But you didn’t want to abdicate. Even if your pussy was hurting from the lack of contact.

You pursed your lips shamefully at that last thought. You couldn’t deny that you desperately wanted him.

Michael tilted his head, and without breaking eye contact, he slided his hand under you to push your underwear on the side. You shivered, feeling the cold air on your damp entrance, the brief contact of his fingers against your swollen lips making you shudder. You tried to stop him by grabbing his hand, but in a swift motion, he grabbed your wrist instead and forced you down.

You whined and resisted, but he eventually managed to bring your hand back on his chest, as you desperately tried to keep your hips up. You were closer to his face like that and he raised his head, looking for your eyes that were trying to avoid him. He wanted you to watch him. Watch him as he did you.

And you had to continue what you were doing. Being a good nurse.

You panted and drew your trembling hand holding the gauze near the wound. Meanwhile, Michael got his hands back on your hips. At first, he pushed you firmly, but slowly, down on him. Your body attempted to jump away from the unexpected contact but you were unable to move.You let out a shaky breath when you felt the tip of his warm and hard cock stretching your lips, making its way inside of you. He was so hard that it stood upright easily, veins pulsing along its length. The wet noise it made when it first got in, mortified you. He knew that you were wet for him and despite his mask, you could feel satisfaction seeping through him.

You shook your head and tried to keep your butt up, fighting his grip.

“S-Stop.” You muttered, battling your desire to pursue this.

You couldn’t just surrender every time. You couldn’t let him win just because it felt good.

In an attempt to make him stop, you pushed the gauze soaked in disinfectant on his wound, hoping that it would trigger a reaction painful enough for him to let you go.

And it did.

Michael tensed up for a second and kind of grunted under the mask. But you felt his cock throb under you and he immediately tightened his grip on your hips. Pain and pleasure mixed well for Michael. You gasped when he suddenly forced you down, bruising your skin in the process. You glided down around his cock until your ass met his groin and balls. You let out a loud gasp when that feeling of fullness took you, crawling its way inside your throat.

You could feel your insides twitch around him, accommodating to his girth. Michael nested, deep inside of you, enjoying the feeling of your silky walls. He inhaled deeply and you felt him retreating slowly before suddenly jerking his hips up, slamming them against you.

“Ah!” You let out unexpectedly, head tilting forward as tickles of electricity traveled through your pelvic floor.

He was not holding back. 

Michael started pounding you, holding your ass to keep you high enough for him to move. You were struggling to focus, breathless cries tumbling out of you, as you could feel dull pleasure building each time he hit your deepest point. It felt good. As always. Your pussy ached for him and now that she could have him, cried in relief to its touch.

Why was sex so good with him ? You asked yourself plaintively.

You stared at him.Through the gaping holes of his mask, his eye was fixated on your joining, watching as his slick cock repeatedly disappeared into your body. He almost seemed mesmerized, and it surprisingly made you feel proud. 

He was rough, and it almost hurt to be brutally slapped by his hips…But there was something unusual, something softer in the way he held you. His hands gripped you tightly, and his fingertips left bruises. But sometimes, you could feel how softly his hands hovered above your skin, as if he felt every shiver, every hair, every texture, every corner of you.

It wasn’t meant to be soft to him. But maybe, just like the feather he brought you, he leaned into his senses telling him he liked what he was feeling.

You dared to look into his eye once more. Your heart fluttered when you saw that he was now looking at you. His dark pupil stared into your soul, scanning your face, watching your cheeks flush red, your hair falling before your face as you breathed, your parted lips trembling…

You didn't read any emotion in it. Not an ounce of humanity. But you had never been stared at by anyone else like this before. It made your heart throb. It made you weak.

The sensations inside you increased and you could feel the premises of your climax coming. Michael was feeling you tightening around him and shoving you harder on him, his hips bucking off the bed.

You had totally given up on his wound. ‘Couldn't focus on it anyway. It felt so good. Feeling him stretching you inside, hard and throbbing. He was made to fit inside you.

You rocked your hips to match his pace.

 The room was filled with the sound of wet skin slapping and heavy breathing. You could feel Michael slightly releasing the pressure on you to allow you to move better. He liked seeing you getting into it.

“Fuck, Michael…” You breathed, your fists clenching on his chest as your legs grew weak.

Hearing his name, or the urgency in your voice, he raised his head to stare at you better. His hand came to rest flat on your lower stomach and you understood that he was trying to feel himself moving inside of you through your skin. He breathed heavily under his mask but his gaze didn't once waver. He thrusted harder.

You tossed your head back, bottom jaw shivering as you came, body shifting and jerking as he fucked you through your waves. His cock was sliding in and out of you easily, your slick coating it entirely.

You moaned and whimpered, moving your hips to catch the last bits of your orgasm. Michael was back to gripping your thighs tightly and by the sound he made, you figured he was close as well.

When his hips bucked off the bed once more, his shoulder bumped into the bedside table. The small flashlight –which bravely held tight until then– fell on the floor and turned off, leaving the both of you in the dark. You almost didn't notice, still in the haze of your post climax. But when you opened your eyes to look at Michael, you could barely distinguish him.

You heard his controlled, heavy breathing in front of you as he pounded still into your sensitive sex.

You felt a movement on your right and suddenly, the warm and massive hand of Michael gripped the back of your neck. You gasped as he forcefully pulled you down. You bent down and heard the sound of plastic stretching.

“His mask…” You thought.

His warm lips crushed yours, barely leaving you time to breathe. It sent shivers down your jaw and neck, electricity traveling between the both of you, as if he was made of thunder, and you of metal. 

Up close like that, the smell of blood was stronger, it was almost suffocating. Maybe it pervaded his whole body after months of killing. It should have been sickening to you. But it only made your heart beat faster, in a mix of primal fear and arousal.

Through your parted lips, Michael let his tongue wander in. You moaned, eyelids fluttering at the sensation of the kiss deepening. He pulled you harder, rewarding your heated moans with more tongue playing.

His cock was rock hard under you, hitting your deepest point relentlessly. You were so wet and numb that you weren't sure if it hurt you or not. But his rough hand holding your hair and his mouth pressed against yours, was so insanely hot to you that it didn't really matter anymore.

It felt exhilarating.

You felt unique.

Because you felt like the only person who Michael Myers wanted to keep alive.

The only person he would kiss.

The only person…in control.

Your hand came to cup his face. Lost in desire and sexual impulses, he didn't seem to feel it. You felt the bone of his jaw, the shape of his chin, the faded scars around his lips.

Michael paused for a moment, realizing the unexpected contact on his face. He broke the kiss as if to stare at you in the dark. He didn't stop pushing himself inside of you though. He was breathing heavily, chasing his climax. Your heart was pounding in your ears. You approached your fingers to his chin and pulled slightly. His mouth opened and even if you couldn't see him, you felt him frowning in slight confusion.

You swallowed nervously and pulling harder, you instantly pressed your lips against him again and timidly inserted your tongue.

Michael tensed up but didn't make a sound. You wondered what he thought of this initiative. You hoped he wouldn't hurt you. Time seemed to stretch for a few seconds before you felt his hand on your scalp shaking. He immobilized himself inside of you and you heard him exhale hoarsely as he thrusted a few more times.

He started thrusting lethargically, letting his orgasm overtake him. His tongue captured you, his hand forcing you to keep kissing him. He hummed slightly and panted, losing for a moment his statue-like appearance, which made you think that he came harder this time.

It was so hot.

Michael eventually broke the kiss again to rest his head on the old pillow, catching his breath.

Your heart was ready to burst out of your ribs. You actually had some power over him still. You wished you could see his face so badly. Was he blushing? Was he closing his eyes? You were desperate to see something so perfectly human, something you were only allowed to see.

Because you were special, right?

Only you could make him come like that.

As you started feeling pure glee rising in your chest, you immediately frowned. Why would you feel happy about it? Why would it matter?

You were not equal.

He was your captor.

And you were his willing prisoner.

Were you trying to find something human in him to make it easier to cope? To be reassured?

To forget that you were falling for a beast that was far from being human?

You lowered your head tiredly, staring at the darkness before you, where Michael was supposed to be. He was back to his deep, controlled breathing, his hands now resting on your hips. He was staring at you, you knew it. You could feel your slick coating his coveralls, and his dick still pulsing inside of you.

It was a bit nasty. But you stayed like that.

Silence filled the room again, and you could finally hear the sound of the rain outside. The fog or your climax started wearing off and reality stepped back in. All of that…All of his actions…They were to keep you lock here. To keep you for himself.

You sighed, and despite it all, you laid down on his chest, pressing your ear against his pectoral. You heard the sound of his heartbeats, strong, yet slow, and it slightly reassured you.

“Michael…” You whispered.

You waited for an answer that would never come. He was back to his usual, cold, distant, self. His hands on you had nothing warm, he was simply waiting for you to move aside.

“...I can't stay with you forever, you know.” You murmured.

Michael didn't move. Maybe he was still too groggy to actually do anything. He breathed deeply, and you knew him enough now to recognize his silence. He was acting like he didn't hear you. Like those words never existed.

You were going to stay with him forever. That's what he thought.

You stretched your ear to listen to the pitter patter of the rain outside through his loud heartbeats. You glanced at the barricaded window, where light from the street outside slipped through the cracks.

“Sometimes I wished you would just kill me.” You thought in the darkness.

Notes:

The surprise was indeed sex with Michael

Notes:

Thank you for reading!